


Everything There is in the World is in Books

by mslouhoo322



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M, I just want Spencer to have a happy life, Original Female Character - Freeform, Season 7 Reid Hair, Season 8 & some Season 9 as well in later chapters, Slow Burn, So this is a less angsty Spencer, Very very loosely based around the Season 7 episodes, at least for the time being
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 86,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26655964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mslouhoo322/pseuds/mslouhoo322
Summary: Before she met him, Jemma assumed the only loves of her life would be her dog and books. Before she met him, Jemma assumed all love played out like the ones in her novels. Before she met him, Jemma assumed she would only experience love through the eyes of her favorite characters. After she met Spencer Reid, Jemma wasn't so sure anymore.UPDATES EVERY FRIDAY
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 93
Kudos: 226





	1. One

I took a deep, steadying breath attempting to catch the scent of unopened books before facing the customer in front of me. Her narrow face was pinched as she shook the wobbly paperback under my nose.

“This was a terrible book that _you_ recommended,” she hissed at me, “I want my money back right now or I’m calling the police.”

I breathed deep one more time and did my best to keep my eyes from rolling. Plastering on a bright smile that didn’t feel nearly real enough to fool the woman in front of me I quickly turned on my best customer service voice.

“I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy the book, but I can definitely help you with your return. Do you have your receipt on you?”

There was a beat of silence where the woman, taken aback by my polite answer and high pitched fake voice, registered my words. Her face pinched even closer together as her eyes narrowed and her eyebrows angled downwards.

“Why the hell would I have a receipt?” She said, gesticulating wildly.

“Ma’am, you need a receipt in order to return anything to this store,” I said, exasperated, “I’m sorry, but unless you have the receipt the best thing I can do is swap out your book for a different book of equal or greater value.”

She pursed her lips and her body began to expand as the rage inside her small body began to consume her. I looked around the near empty bookstore praying to whichever God available. Hopefully they’d get the message and strike me down where I stood. Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of the top of a tall man’s head. His hair was cropped and curly and his brown eyes were scrunched slightly in concentration as he scanned the pages or the back of the book I assumed he was holding. Then, as though he could feel someone watching him, he glanced up and our eyes met. It was only for a split second, but perhaps my desperation was overwhelming, and he stepped out from behind the bookshelves.

“Excuse me,” the angry woman in front of me snarled, snapping her knobby fingers at me, “excuse me, are you going to pay attention and do your job? I am not swapping this book out for another piece of trash. Either give me a refund or I’m calling the police.”

I pulled my eyes away from the tall man and focused back on the small, angry woman. Not even trying to hide my sigh and eye roll, I braced myself against the desk and smiled widely at her again.

“Let me get you my manager,” I said sweetly before pivoting and stalking to the back of the room where Matt stood sorting new releases. He looked up before I got there, probably hearing my heavy sigh and leaned slightly over to glance at the front desk.

“Another disgruntled customer?” He asked, resigned, “Jemma, you gotta stop recommending that book.”

“I can’t help that people don’t understand how great Betty Smith’s classic novel is. They should have better opinions.”

Matt glared at me for a few seconds. He still had a book in his hand, hovering over an already towering stack of literature that would eventually be arranged decoratively on the table by the front door. “You’re lucky I like you so much. What does she want?”

“A full refund --” Matt opened his mouth, “--and no she doesn’t not have her receipt on her.”

He shut his mouth and closed his eyes. He blew a gust of air through his nose and, when he opened his eyes, he was completely transformed. Now was his turn to become Customer Service Drone.

“Hello, ma’am,” I heard him say sweetly as he stepped around the counter, “Let me take care of you over here.”

He braced a hand on her shoulder blades, steering her towards a different register across the store. Mollified, the woman didn’t argue further. Maybe she was just happy not to be dealing with me anymore, maybe she was just overwhelmed by a man taking control of the situation suddenly. Either way I decided I hated her and was happy to be rid of her. I took a moment to scan the store. Thankfully, no one else had entered the store during my altercation so I stepped out from behind the register to wander the stacks. I hadn’t forgotten the tall, handsome stranger, but the promise of walking through the shelves was much greater than making even more of a fool of myself. I paused briefly in the Mysteries section to thumb through one of the latest true crime novels.

Eventually I found him perusing the Classics section. He had squatted slightly, bracing his hands on his knees obviously looking for something. Not yet aware of my presence, I took the time to study him.

Now that I wasn’t trying to fight anyone off I could see that his hair was artfully curly yet there were a few curls that hadn’t gotten the memo. Subconsciously, he reached up to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear though there was nothing there. Obviously he was still getting used to this length of hair. He straightened, frowning, and tugged his grey sweater vest down over the top of his pants. I could see the hint of a white shirt and a deep purple tie peeking out of the top of his sweater vest. The tie matched the purple converse I could see peeking out of the bottom of his pant legs. Mumbling slightly to himself, he frowned again and squatted fully, examining the bottom row of books exposing his mismatched green and polka dotted socks. I chuckled quietly to myself.

Not quietly enough however. His eyes shot up to meet mine and he lost balance tipping into the bookshelf behind him. Several (thankfully paperback) copies of Bram Stoker’s Dracula dropped onto the top of his head.

“Oh my God, are you ok?” I said, stumbling forward to help him off the floor.

He rubbed the top of his head and pulled himself back to his feet, ignoring the hand I had held out to him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he mumbled, picking up the fallen books, “Sorry to make a mess of your bookstore.”

I pulled my hand back in, a little crestfallen. He towered over me, at least a foot taller. Blushing slightly, he avoided eye contact. Feeling just as embarrassed as he probably did I cleared my throat.

“Oh, no worries. It’s an easy fix,” I held my hand out and he handed me the fallen books. I cleared my throat again, “Is there something I can help you find?”

He nodded, still avoiding eye contact. Instead he chose to study the bookshelf in front of him again.

“Actually yeah. I was looking for a book, but I’m having trouble finding it. I tried locating it by author, then, when that didn’t work, I tried alphabetically by title. My next thought was maybe Dewey Decimal?”

I blinked at him. “Dewey Decimal?”

His eyes met mine for one second before it skittered away again.

“Yeah. The Dewey Decimal system? It was originally created in 1876 by Melvil Dewey and introduced the concepts of relative location and relative index which allow new books to be added to a library in their appropriate location based on subject. It's a classification system is used in 200,000 libraries in at least 135 countries.” He seemed to have found a rhythm, forgetting completely where he was. “It was originally described in a four-page pamphlet, but it’s been expanded to multiple volumes and revised through 23 major editions --”

Suddenly he came back to himself, realizing he was explaining the Dewey Decimal system to a bookstore employee. He flushed again, glancing at me before focusing on the tips of his sneakers.

“Sorry. I get kind of carried away sometimes,” he said, sheepishly.

Unable to help myself, I laughed. His eyes darted to mine again and, slowly, his lips started to curl upwards.

“You don’t have to apologize,” I said, smiling back at him, “Are you in Library Sciences?”

“No, I -- uh -- actually I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit in the FBI.” His sheepishness was back. He reached up to tuck the nonexistent hair behind his ear again, “I’m just a fan of knowledge.”

I blinked at him. He barely looked older than 30 and he worked within the FBI?

“Um -- wow, ok. That’s awesome,” I sputtered, “Well, maybe I can help you find what you’re looking for, Agent.”

“Spencer.”

“What?”

“My name. It’s Spencer.”

Once again he met my eyes briefly before darting away. I couldn’t help but smile.

“Ok, _Spencer_. What book are you looking for?”

His brow furrowed again as he scanned the bookshelf one last time. “ _Wuthering Heights_.”

I scoffed, “ _Why_?”

He looked back at me, startled. “Why?”

“That is a terrible book. You’re wasting your time reading it. I could find you ten other books that are better than that rag.”

Spencer stared at me. It was the longest his brown eyes had ever rested on my face. It was honestly a little uncomfortable. Like squinting into the sun I couldn’t keep my eyes on his.

“My mother used to read it to me when I was a kid.”

 _Crap_.

“Oh, I mean. I haven’t read the book in a long time, so I could be confusing it with a completely different book and not the book that your mom used to read you--” _God, if you are there I’m ready to die now._

“She preferred Greek Mythology,” he said, thankfully interrupting my attempt at grovelling, “I haven’t read it in a while either. I thought maybe I’d give it another shot.”

I swear I could see the glint of mischief in his eye, but before I could fully register it it was gone and his gaze had moved away from mine again.

“But I suppose I could be talked into a different book. What was the book you recommended to that woman?”

I could feel my cheeks flushing. So he had been paying attention to the register. That cranky lady, now thankfully long gone, hadn’t been quiet in her beratement, but I wasn’t sure if Spencer had been listening.

“Oh, uh, she was looking for a classic as well. A coming of age story with a good plot. I recommended one of my favorites -- Betty Smith’s _A Tree Grows in Brooklyn_.”

Spencer thought for a moment. “I don’t think I’ve read that one.”

“Oh man, you’re missing out.” Without thinking, I took off down the aisle back where I had come. Spencer, confused, followed a few steps behind. I leaned back slightly, scanning each spine quickly before I found what I was looking for. A little girl sat on a half wall, her leg dangling off the side. I studied the cover for a second before handing the paperback to Spencer. He took it and flipped through the first few pages, his finger sliding down the page. It wasn’t until he had flipped the page a couple of times before I realized something.

“Wait. Are you reading it right now?”

He looked up at me, his brown eyes taking a second to focus completely on me. He was already enthralled with the book, I could tell.

“I read 20,000 words per minute.”

“Oh,” was all I could manage. There were two more beats of silence. “Lucky you.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed. “Lucky me?”

“Well yeah, I’d kill to be able to read books that fast. You know, ‘time enough at last?’”

“Like the Twilight Zone episode?”

I laughed, surprised. “Good job! Not many people get that reference. It’s a gut punch of an ending, but aside from the whole glasses thing I’d love to have all the time in the world to read books. To read 20,000 words per minute would almost make that possible.”

He smiled at me and, for a few seconds (or maybe minutes) we stood in between the bookshelves grinning at each other like idiots. Behind Spencer, Matt stalked by the end of the aisle obviously looking for me. Catching sight of me and a tall, handsome strange man he didn’t know, Matt stopped suddenly, stumbling slightly. He caught my eye and waggled his eyebrows at me. Sensing something, Spencer began to turn and I panicked.

“So --,” I started suddenly. Spencer turned back to me, a little shocked at my sudden outburst. “So, uh, are you willing to give Betty a chance?”

He looked down at the cover and nodded, “Yeah, I think I will.”

“Great!” I said, my voice reaching dog whistle level decibels as Matt mimed making out with an invisible person. I’m going to kill him. “Let me check you out -- I mean get you checked out.”

Spencer followed me to the register where I rang him up in silence. He had already gone back to reading, scanning his finger down each page. It took him a few seconds to realize I was handing him a receipt.

“If you hate it and want a refund, please bring your receipt with you,” I said, trying to joke before he was gone.

His fingers closed over the paper, his thumb barely grazing over mine. If it hadn’t spread warmth throughout my entire body I wouldn’t have realized it had even happened. Perhaps he had felt it too because I saw him swallow hard, his eyebrows furrowing one more time before he pulled the receipt from my hands and tucked it into the book as a bookmark.

“Of course,” he said, “Though I don’t think I’m going to hate it. Thanks for the recommendation --”

He trailed off, his eyes scanning me and the desk around me. It took me a second to realize he wasn’t trying to check me out, but was looking for a nametag.

“Jemma,” I blurted out. “Jemma Hamilton.”

His lips curled into the sweetest smile I had seen from him yet. It took all I had not to melt into a puddle on the floor. Behind Spencer, Matt rolled his eyes at what I assume was the dumbstruck look on my face and mimed throwing up into the romance section.

“Thanks for the recommendation, Jemma.” He turned and pushed open the door, glancing quickly back at me before he turned and walked up the street. Matt moved back behind the register, knocking into my shoulder and shaking me out of my stupor.

“What was that?” he singsonged, knocking my shoulder again. “ _Who_ was that?”

“Spencer from the BAU,” I murmured, still watching the door. I swiped my finger over the tip of my thumb, still tingling slightly from the contact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my first AO3 fic! Thanks to this pandemic and the fact that I'm working from home for the foreseeable future I've been binge watching all 12 seasons of Criminal Minds on Netflix and plan to watch the last three seasons wherever I can find them. I can't get enough of Spencer Reid and, thanks to some particularly juicy fics here, I have a new found appreciation for slow burns. 
> 
> It's been awhile since I've written fanfiction, but it feels good to be back.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer proves he has great taste in books and Jemma has her own fairytale-like encounter with a knight in sneakers and a sweater vest.

He was back within two days. I assumed our infamous meeting where I was yelled at by an angry, old woman and then insulted his mother’s reading choices would be the first and last interaction I would have with Spencer from the BAU, but when the front door bell chimed it was his brown eyes I saw when I looked up.

“Spencer! You’re back!” I exclaimed without thinking, losing my grip on the hardback I had been scanning. It clattered loudly on the desk. I heard Matt stifle a laugh from the back office.

He stopped in the doorway, just as surprised by my outburst as I was. Then his lips curled into a shy smile and he stepped fully into the store and straight up to the counter, his messenger bag banging on his hip.

“I finished it,” he said simply.

“You finished  _ A Tree Grows in Brooklyn _ in two days?”

He grinned sheepishly at me. “Actually I finished it in two hours, but we had a case in Oklahoma and then Garcia wanted to borrow my copy and I was just now able to get back to the bookstore.”

I couldn’t help grinning back at him. “ _ So _ ?”

“So?”

“What did you think? And please remember it is one of my favorite books.”

He drummed his fingers against the corner of the desk, thinking. “I can see why you like it so much. Francie is a girl in love with books, much like I can tell you are. You know it was semi-autobiographical? Betty Smith based much of the story off of her own life. When she was born her family lived on Ewen Street in Brooklyn, but they eventually relocated to a tenement on the top floor of 702 Grand Street that eventually served as the setting for her first novel.”

I nodded at him, unable to keep the smile off my lips. “She wrote several other books about growing up in Brooklyn, but nothing quite as good as  _ A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. _ ”

We stood in companionable silence for a moment before Matt cleared his throat, stepping up to the desk beside me, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Sounds like a satisfied customer,” he said. I felt my face begin to radiate. “Do you need help picking out another book?”

Spencer smiled back at him, but shook his head.

“Not today I’m afraid. I’ve got to head back into the office, but I just wanted to let Jemma know that not everyone has terrible taste in books.”

Speechless, I felt my mouth open and close a few times as my brain attempted to find a joke, a phrase, even a word I could say that would make me sound cool and composed. No such luck. After a beat of silence, he rapped his knuckles once on the desk and turned to go. Matt tsked quietly to himself.

“He liked your book,” he said simply, “It’s a miracle you didn’t jump over the desk on top of him.”

“Shut up,” I hissed, my cheeks still warm. I picked up the hardback again to scan and stacked it on the growing pile next to me. I willed my hands to stop trembling. Noticing, Matt snickered and knocked his shoulder into mine before heading back into the back office.

“Next time you see him you should give him your number or something,” he laughed, “Because watching you pine is just sad.”

I grabbed a pen out of the jar by the register and tossed it in his general direction. It missed badly, but Matt got the message. Still laughing, he held up a middle finger in my direction and then he was gone.

Sighing, I placed my hands on my warm cheeks for a few seconds before looking back at the front door.

“ _ Francie is a girl in love with books, much like I can tell you are, _ ” he had said. My cheeks warmed again and I spent the remainder of my shift with an unbreakable small smile.

* * *

The sky was a swirl of deep purple and blue by the time Matt and I closed up shop later that evening. We had locked our doors at least an hour ago, but there was always some inventory to take or books we had to reshelve. It was mindless work, but it didn't bother me. It was the one time during the day I could really dive into the stacks and find the next book for my nightstand. I treated the bookstore like my own personal library, snagging books and returning them a few days later as though they had never vanished from the store. I had a sneaking suspicion that Matt was aware of my kleptomania, but he never said a word. Really it was a godsend, if he made me pay for all the books I borrowed I’d never have a paycheck.

I pulled the door shut firmly, holding it as close as I could to my body. The building was old and the door was finicky so it took a couple of handle jiggles to slide the lock into place. Matt patted me on the shoulder and told me he’d see me in the morning before we turned and went in separate directions. Gripping my keys between the fingers of my fist as a precaution for any creep waiting in the shadows I headed toward the nearby metro station. Sometimes being a woman in a city really sucked and I couldn’t help thinking of the cases Spencer probably saw working within the FBI. 

The metro station was blissfully empty when I reached the bottom of the stairs and stayed that way even as the train pulled to a stop in front of me. I found a seat near the door to the compartment and gathered my bag into my lap. I pulled my latest book out, turned to the first page, and lost myself to the story. It wasn’t until several stops later that I realized someone else had boarded the train and I was now being watched. Peeking over the top of my book I saw a skinny, scruffy looking blonde boy watching me from the other side of the compartment. When he saw me looking at him, his mouth widened into a sickly smile. Dental hygiene obviously wasn’t one of his priorities as I could tell how yellow his teeth were from where I sat. Something about my obvious disgust encouraged him. As the doors slid closed and the train began moving again, he stood and began making his way over to me, reaching for each pole as the train floor rocked and shifted below him. I buried my nose deeper into my book, willing him to get the message and leave me alone.

“Well, hello there beautiful,” I heard him leer at me. Looking up again, I saw he had made his way directly in front of me. He had chosen to stay standing, looming over me. “What is a beautiful girl like yourself doing riding the metro at this time of night?”

I cleared my throat, tightening my hand around the bag in my lap and subtly attempting to shift away from him.

“Just heading out to meet my friends,” I lied.

“Maybe I could keep you company until you meet up with your friends,” he said. The train rocketed around a curve and he used the momentum to shift closer to me. His calf brushed up against my knee.

“No thanks,” I said quickly. I could feel the train begin to slow - we were obviously headed toward our next stop. I prayed someone else would board the train.

“No, no, no,” the man said, smirking and shaking his head, “Y’see I am a gentleman and a gentleman doesn’t let a gorgeous lady like yourself travel alone. Something terrible could happen to you.”

I looked up at him in alarm. He leered at me again, bending slightly to invade my space. I attempted to pull away from him, but my head hit the wall of the compartment. Beginning to panic, my eyes darted around the space looking for something or someone to help me. Then, like a miracle, I saw him.  _ Spencer _ .

“Spencer!” I exclaimed as he stepped aboard. He looked back at me in alarm, “There you are!”

I turned back to the creepy man and plastered my customer service smile on my face.

“Thanks so much for keeping me company, but there’s one of my friends now!” I stuffed my book back in my bag and shoved past him. He stumbled a little bit, glaring at Spencer.

“Jemma!” Spencer said, looking confused. His gaze slid from mine to the glare of man beside me and I saw recognition click into place, “I’m sorry I’m late. Should we head out?”

I nodded fervently and eagerly stepped forward towards Spencer. Not having any other choice, he turned on his heel and followed me back off the train. I could hear the creep muttering angrily to himself behind me, but I refused to look back. We walked up the metro stairs together in silence, Spencer’s hands shoved in his pockets, mine hanging awkwardly by my sides. I took a deep breath as the cool open air brushed my cheeks.

“Thank you so much for playing along back there,” I said finally. We stopped at the top of the stairs, “I’m sorry you had to miss your train home.”

He shrugged. “It’s alright. I’m glad I was there.”

We fell into another comfortable silence. I could see he was looking at his shoes, a small blush on his cheeks. I tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear and cleared my throat.

“Well, uh, thanks again,” I said, “Maybe I’ll see you in the bookstore later?”

I turned to go, pulling my phone out to find the quickest way to get to my apartment. Luckily it was only a few blocks away. I heard Spencer fall into step behind me.

“Can I walk you home?” He asked quietly, hands still shoved in his pockets. “D.C has one of the highest crime rates in America compared to all communities of all sizes - from the smallest towns to the largest cities. Your chance of becoming a victim of either violent or property crime here is one in seventeen.”

I blinked at him. He seemed to realize exactly what he had said and I saw the color in his cheeks deepen.

“Sorry. I’m probably not helping,” he said, “But after that guy I just want to make sure you get home safe.”

I could feel a smile slowly start to crawl across my lips. I nodded at him and started walking again, Spencer trotting quietly at my side.

“Ok, you can walk me home, but maybe no more statistics about how I’m going to be murdered.”

He smiled, “Deal.”

The sun had set almost completely now and the cicadas were chirping in the trees. It was a perfect summer evening and I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I heard Spencer clear his throat.

“So how long have you been working at The Raven Bookstore?” he asked.

I shrugged, “About two years. I was trying to finish my Masters in Publishing at George Washington, but I never fully got there. I don’t know if you know this, but rent around here is incredibly expensive and I needed a job that preferably didn’t suck my soul. I thought books might be my best option. Matt inherited the bookstore from his grandfather and had been working there solo since his inheritance. He offered me the job pretty much on the spot out of desperation for another pair of hands to help out and I’ve been there ever since. I conveniently forgot about the other people involved with selling books.”

He chuckled to himself, nodding. I looked at him quickly before looking down at my feet.

“What about you? How long have you been at the BAU?”

“About eight years now,” he said, sounding shocked as though he hadn’t thought about it for a while. “I joined when I was 22 and I’ve been there ever since.”

“Wait,” I said, stopping suddenly. He continued on a few steps before he realized I wasn’t following. “You started working at the FBI when you were 22 years old? How?”

He shrugged, “I graduated from high school when I was twelve and got my first doctorate when I was seventeen.”

I couldn’t help my jaw from dropping. “Your  _ first  _ doctorate?”

He smiled at me, his brown eyes crinkling around the edges. I started walking again just to keep myself from melting into a puddle at his feet. “I have three - Math, Engineering, and Chemistry. I’m actually working on a Philosophy degree right now.”

“Spencer, you astound me,” I said, shaking my head.

I glanced over at him and realized he was looking back at me. It was a long moment where we continued to gaze at each other and then the toe of my sneaker caught on an uneven patch of sidewalk and I pitched forward, unstable. As if in slow motion, I felt Spencer reach out to catch me. He wrapped an arm around my ribcage, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward him. Heart speeding, either from the adrenaline of falling or the adrenaline of suddenly finding myself in close proximity with the brown eyes I’d been thinking about for the past two days, I had trouble catching my breath. Even in the gathering dark I could tell that his eyes weren’t just brown, they were golden with a sprinkling of some other color I couldn’t quite see.

“Thanks,” I said, breathlessly. 

Reluctantly, I pulled myself away from him. He nodded, his lips compressing into the tight smile that I could tell meant  _ ‘you’re welcome _ .’ He stuffed his hands back in his pockets and I could swear I saw him blush again. We rounded the corner of a darkened street where my apartment complex stood and up the stairs to my front door. A part of my brain wanted to invite him inside and see where the night took us, but the other part of my brain that hadn’t interacted with boys in a very long time froze in panic. 

“Home sweet home,” I said lamely. “Uh - thanks again for walking me. Are you going to be ok getting home yourself?”

He nodded, rocking back on his heels a couple of times. 

“Yeah, there’s another station nearby. I’ll just catch the next train,” he said.

That could have been it. I could have wished him a good night and ducked into my apartment where I could die from embarrassment in peace, but neither of us moved. He rocked a few more times. I could hear my dog, Bruno, whining quietly at the door. 

“I should go,” I said finally, “My dog probably needs to go out before bed.”

He nodded. “Ok, well I’ll see you around?”

I tried not to nod too enthusiastically. He turned to go and I heard myself call his name.

“Spencer, wait!”

Pausing on the steps, he looked back at me surprised and, dare I say it, hopeful. I dug frantically around in my bag for a slip of paper and a pen. On the back of a Starbucks receipt I scribbled my number and stumbled forward to give it to him.

“Here,” I said, suddenly out of breath. “For when you need any book recommendations. Or -” I flailed my hand in the air, trying to look nonchalant “-or anything else.”

He stared at the scribbles on the back of the receipt for a moment and then smiled and tucked the paper into his pocket. “Thanks. Have a good night, Jemma.”

I smiled, feeling a little reckless.

“You too, Dr. Agent Spencer.”

He smiled slightly and turned back up the street. Before he faded into the dark I saw him pull the paper out again and turn back to me. I stumbled into my apartment, weak at the knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a confession to make. This story is half shameless attempt to get more people to read one of my actual favorite books, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, and half shameless self-insert. I am not even a little bit sorry about both.
> 
> Also, I HIGHLY recommend you listen to this Spencer Reid Spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1fIGrjyCJFg0rAA6S0ARTa?si=VNycd2MeQ7WNYT4thiYmpg. It's what I listen to while writing this series and it definitely gives me strong Spencer Reid vibes.
> 
> I will see ya'll next week!


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma gets some coffee and Spencer asks for help...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent most of this weekend writing and I'm really excited with where this story is going. I decided in celebration I'd post a chapter early! Please enjoy...

“Ah, so this is the mystery coffee order,” I heard a smug voice say as the doorbell chimed early the next morning. “Pretty Boy you didn’t tell me we were going to meet a girl.”

“Derek,  _ please _ ,” I heard a familiar voice hiss and I looked up from counting out the register in alarm. In front of me stood Spencer, looking just as amazing as he had less than 12 hours ago where he had left me on my front doorstep. He had traded out his grey cardigan for a bright red one, but he looked just as artfully disheveled as before. In his hands he held two white to go cups, each with a curl of steam leaking out of it. I could practically smell the hazelnut from the register.

“Spence,” I said. Derek’s eyebrows quirked at the nickname and I saw him stifle a smile, “Hey, what’s up?”

Spencer placed the steaming coffee cup on the counter in front of me. “I was in the neighborhood getting coffee and thought I’d pick you up some as well. Double hazelnut, room for cream, two sugars.”

I blinked at him and glanced at the man behind him. Derek looked just as dumbstruck as I felt.

“How’d you know how I liked my coffee?” I said then shook my head, “No wait, let me guess. Profiler’s intuition? You’re not only a genius, but also a mind reader.”

Spencer grinned at me, laughing slightly. I didn’t think Derek’s eyebrows could go any higher.

“Actually no,” Spencer replied. He dug into his sweater pocket and pulled out a neatly folded slip of paper. “Your coffee order was on the back of the receipt you gave me last night.”

“Oh my god,” I heard Derek mutter quietly behind him. Spencer turned quickly and gave a look I couldn’t quite see, but Derek seemed to get the message. He moved away into the stacks, but I could hear quiet chuckles as he went.

I pulled the coffee cup closer to me, warming my hands. “Wow, first you save me from a creep on the train and then you bring me coffee the next morning? All I’ve done for you so far is recommend you a book.”

“Yeah, but you recommended me a  _ good _ book,” he said, quickly. He tapped his fingers on the coffee mug he still had in his hand. “Sorry if it’s weird. I just wanted to check in and make sure you were ok.”

I smiled, ducking my head. “I am. Thanks again for helping me. I really do owe you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, smile still playing on his lips. He hesitated a moment, looking like he wanted to say more, “Jemma, I -,”

“Hey, Lover Boy -,” Derek was back, rounding the nearest shelf with his phone in hand, “Penelope just called. We’ve got another case. Wheels up in 30.”

Looking crestfallen, Spencer nodded. Derek turned to me.

“Nice to meet you, Jemma. I’m sure I’ll hear a lot more about you from Dr. Reid on the flight over to Idaho.” Derek extended a hand which I shook. “The names Derek Morgan. Let me know if you want any embarrassing information on the kid. I’d love to fill you in on all the juicy details.”

He winked at me and turned to go, gesturing for Spencer to follow him. Spencer was staring at the ceiling tiles in what I recognized as the stance of a man wishing he could be anywhere but in this particular moment. I cleared my throat and his eyes darted to mine.

“Thanks again for the coffee,” I said, raising the cup to him in a mock cheers, “Um - let me know if you need any book recommendations while you’re gone.”

He smiled, slow and sweet, and nodded. “I will. Stay safe, Jenna Hamilton.”

“Right back at you, Dr. Agent Spencer Reid.”

He turned to go, following after Derek, who was waiting with the door open, his mouth slightly agape. Before he stepped across the threshold back into the world, he looked back at me.

“Just Spence is fine.”

* * *

After a blissfully uneventful metro ride, I returned home with every intention of hunkering down for the night with a movie and a bowl of popcorn. Bruno, my Yorkie, spun circles around my feet, excited for me to be home and desperate for the outside. I clipped him to his leash and walked him briefly around my neighborhood humming quietly to myself.

I had spent a majority of the day buzzing around the bookstore. Matt, with a knowing gleam in his eye, asked me  _ who _ had put me in such a great mood, but I just told him it was the extra caffeine coursing through my veins. It very well could have been - I usually only drank one cup of coffee a day and it was just to keep a caffeine headache at bay (an addiction I had picked up in my undergrad and had yet to shake), but I knew that it wasn’t just the extra caffeine by the fact that I kept seeing Spencer’s slow, sweet smile every time I blinked. The man had brought me coffee and wanted to check up on me.

Bruno sniffed around the yard a little bit more, lifting his leg on my neighbor’s azaleas. I glanced around nervously - you never know how people are going to react to dogs peeing on their flowers. Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I expected it to be a message from Matt inviting me out to drinks and dancing or even a text from my mom, but instead it was from a number I didn’t know.

UNKNOWN: Jemma, I need a good book recommendation, any suggestions? -SR

SR? Who was SR? My fingers hung over the keyboard torn between sending this number a book recommendation and asking them who they heck they were, but then a memory came back to me.

“ _ I’m sure we’ll hear a lot more about you from Dr. Reid on the flight over…” _ Derek had said. 

My phone buzzed again. Bruno sniffed the air in my general direction almost as if he could tell something was happening.

UNKNOWN: This is Spencer, by the way. I probably should have opened with that.

Unable to keep myself from smiling I typed back quickly.

JH: It doesn’t take a profiler’s brain to figure out your code. What kind of book are you looking for?

I stared at the screen, waiting for him to respond, but after several moments I realized I had been standing in the same spot in my yard for a creepy long amount of time. Anyone peering out of their windows probably thought I was a stalker or a robber. Bruno had migrated back to my feet and was staring up at me expectantly.

“Don’t look at me like that, ok?” I hissed at him. He quirked his ears back and forth and looked back towards our front door. “You’d get distracted too if a cute boy with three doctorates was texting you.”

Feeling slightly ridiculous that I had just berated my dog of all people for judging my texting habits, I walked him back inside. I had just latched the door when my phone buzzed again.

SR: Something good?

I rolled my eyes, if I had a nickel for everytime a customer came in with a vague idea of what they wanted I’d own my own bookstore by now. But I couldn’t help but be charmed by Spencer’s request. Though I hadn’t talked in depth about his job at the BAU, I knew his job probably didn’t have a lot of downtime and any extra time would be devoted to whatever case they were working on.

JH: An easy request then. Well, another one of my favorite books is Emily St. Mandel’s  _ Station Eleven _ . It’s nothing like my last recommendation.

His response was quick. The screen hadn’t even gone dark on my phone before it buzzed again.

SR: Save me a copy for when I get back?

I smiled, clasping the phone to my chest. I’d never felt like a character in a romance novel until this moment. Bruno surveyed me from my living room couch, his head slightly cocked as though he knew I was losing it.

JH: Of course! I’ll keep a copy for you at the register.

I agonized over my last message before sending it. Was it too short? Too enthusiastic? Should I have tried to flirt a little more? Maybe I was losing my mind a little bit. Holding my breath, I pressed the blue send button. I saw the three dots rise and fall as Spencer began writing back to me. Once, twice, three times and then it disappeared. Perhaps there had been a break in the case and he had been pulled away or maybe he had simply fallen asleep in his hotel room? Either way I was a little sad our first text conversation had been so short, but his last message still sent flutters of electricity through my nervous system.  _ Save me a copy for when I get back? _

* * *

_ Boise, Idaho _

The team had done everything they could for the evening, opting to head back to the hotel for a few hours of shut eye before returning to the precinct with fresh minds. JJ had retired quietly to her room to call her boys, Hotch - ever the workaholic - had grabbed a few case files from his bag and found a quiet booth in the back of the attached hotel restaurant, Emily, Derek, and Rossi had bellied up to the bar to grab a few drinks before retiring for the evening. Spencer was the only agent left sitting in the lobby, his phone open in his hand.

What now? The only two girls he had ever been attracted to - JJ and Lila Archer - hadn’t exactly worked out romantically and he had no idea what to say next. He tried a couple of options -

SR: Maybe we could get together and -  _ what if she says no? _

SR: You have great taste in books even my mother would say so -  _ no, that sounds so pathetic. _

SR: How about a romance novel? -  _ who am I? Morgan? _

“Why the long face, Pretty Ricky?” Speak of the devil. Morgan’s foot knocked against the tip of Spencer’s shoe, the ice cubes clinking in his drink. “MIssing your girlfriend?”

Spencer didn’t say anything for a moment, choosing instead to glare up at the smirking agent in front of him. Finally he sighed and shut his screen off.

“Morgan I’m going to ask you a question and I’m begging you - make as little fun of me as you possibly can,” he said at last, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

Morgan’s eyebrows lifted. “Sure, kid. Hit me.”

Spencer sighed. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

He scrubbed hard at his face, gathering his courage. There was no way this was going to be an easy conversation.

“How do you talk to women?” As he expected, Morgan began to smirk. “Remember you promised not to make fun of me.”

Morgan lifted his hands in surrender. “Sorry, Pretty Boy. It’s not often that I know something that you don’t.. So you want to ask out Jemma, huh? She’s cute. Believe it or not, kid, I don’t think it’ll be as hard as you think.”

Spencer scoffed. “That doesn’t help me at all! I don’t have the kind of skills that you do. All I’ve talked about with her was books and our jobs.” He scrubbed his hands over his face again. “Morgan, I have an IQ of 187, I can read 20,000 words per minute, but I am useless when it comes to talking to women.”

Morgan sank slowly onto the low coffee table in front of Spencer, his eyebrows drawn in concern. 

“Hey, hey, hey, kid. You’re being too hard on yourself. You know how I talk to women?” He ducked his head, attempting to make eye contact. “I’m  _ myself _ . Just keep doing what you’re doing. I can tell you she is just as interested in you as you are in her.”

Spencer scoffed again. “You don’t know that.”

Morgan shook his head, “Reid, for the youngest BAU agent you can be really dense sometimes. Next time you talk to her, use that big profiler brain of yours.” He tapped Spencer’s forehead with one finger and Spencer swatted it away.

Morgan patted Spencer’s knee and drained his glass. He dropped the glass on the coffee table and headed towards the elevator, evidently heading up to bed. He waved to Emily and Rossi, still chatting at the bar. Spencer sat a moment longer, unlocking his phone to look one more time at the message still open on his screen.  _ Just be myself _ .  _ I just have to be myself _ .

Nodding once to himself, Spencer stood. He took one last look at his phone and slipped it into his pocket.  _ I’ll be myself. Tomorrow. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll see you all lovely readers on Friday!


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer takes a chance and Jemma prepares to meet the team...

“So let me ask you something.” I took a sip of my coffee, squinting up at Spencer in the bright midday light, “How can you study the worst kinds of people and not lose all faith in humanity?”

He looked upwards, his eyes narrowing until they were practically closed, thinking. After texting back and forth for several days (mostly about books, sometimes about my dog, never about our jobs), Spencer had surprised me by ringing my front doorbell with another warm cup of coffee and an offer for a quick walk in the park. He had looked sheepish, as though expecting me to slam the door in his face, but had explained to me that the case - a serial killer obsessed with the anniversary of a school shooting - had forced him to remember his own high school experience and he needed a distraction before heading back to work. I was out the door practically by his second word, Bruno following happily behind me, always game for a walk.

“It is difficult sometimes,” he said at last. He looked back down at me, eyes still mostly shut in a squint. “But when we reunite someone with their family I remember why our work is so important.”

“I suppose I get it,” I said, laughing slightly. My favorite smile curled across his lips. “I definitely couldn’t do it, but I’m glad you’re there to make the world a little bit better.”

We walked in silence for a few moments, Bruno darting forward to sniff every tree and bush nearby. I heard Spencer take a deep breath as though he were about to jump off the high dive.

“Jemma -,” he started.

“Yeah?” I asked, looking back at him. He was frowning into his coffee cup, avoiding eye contact.

“I was wondering -,” he paused again, looking slightly queasy. “I was wondering - uh - if I could stop by to pick up that book later this week?”

“Oh,” I said, feeling slightly let down though I wasn’t entirely sure why. “Of course! I’ve got it stored by the register. Drop by whenever you’re in the area.”

He nodded, still focusing on the top of his coffee cup. “Great. Thanks.”

“Sure.” I felt a little ridiculous and was surprised at the sudden sting of tears in my eyes.  _ What the hell was wrong with me? _

Bruno squatted and I hurried forward with a doggie bag, partly to be a good citizen and partly to hide my sudden emotion from Spencer. I tossed the small bag into a nearby trash can and dared a glance at Spencer. He looked almost as disappointed as I felt.

“Um - tell me about your family,” he said suddenly as we fell back into step, turning back toward the street I lived on.

Not expecting the sudden change of subject I stumbled a little bit on my words. “Oh, well - they’re back in Kansas City. It’s a great place - the best BBQ, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise - but I just wanted a change of scenery. It was just me, my mom, and my dad so we did plenty of traveling when I was growing up. It’s where I got my taste for an ocean breeze. I couldn’t stay landlocked forever.”

“You’re an only child? Me too!” He said, excitedly. “My mom is the main reason I’ve read so many books and why I was inspired to do more with my life.”

I smiled at him. “She sounds like a good woman. I hope one day I can apologize to her in person for questioning her book choices.”

He gazed at me for a moment. I could see the same deep end look on his face, but it was gone just as suddenly as it had come.

“I bet she’d love to debate books with you,” he said at last.

We continued our walk back toward my apartment in silence. Every now and then his arm would brush my shoulder and the contact was delicious, speeding my heart rate. When we made it to my stairs, he dropped to a crouch and scratched behind Bruno’s ears. My dog, loving the attention, dropped to the ground, rolling to expose his belly. I laughed at his ridiculousness, shaking my head. Spencer looked up, smiling. The deep end look crossed his features again.

“Hey, one of the agents I work with, David Rossi, is having a small get together for our team,” he blurted out suddenly. “He’s invited any of our friends or -,” the words seemed to get caught in his throat, “-or significant others. I was going to go solo, but Rossi makes the best bruschetta. Do you want to come?”

It was sudden and took me by surprise, but somehow his invitation had released whatever vise-like grip that had so painfully squeezed my heart just a few minutes earlier. For a moment I was elated -  _ is this like a date? _ Then I was terrified -  _ oh no, is this like a date? I have to meet a team of profilers? _ He was still crouched looking up at me, his hand a few inches from Bruno’s belly. Frustrated, my dog snorted once, rolled back onto his feet and butted his head up towards Spencer’s prone hand. Spencer ducked his head back down to the dog, suddenly looking embarrassed.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” he said, quietly, “I just wanted you to meet my team. They aren’t all like Morgan, I promise.”

“No, no, no,” I said finally, shaking my head quickly, “Sorry - I’d love to come! The food sounds great. I just don’t know what to talk about to a team of FBI profilers.”

Spencer smiled, standing - with the sun blazing in the sky behind him, lighting his hair like a halo, he almost looked otherworldly. I couldn’t help but smile back. Bruno huffed again, rubbing his body against Spencer’s calves like a cat desperate for more attention. Honestly, I could relate.

“Great!” He said, suddenly looking nervous, “I’ll pick you up around six?”

I glanced at my phone - that gave me about five hours to have a panic attack and overthink my outfit several times over before he would be back on my doorstep. I nodded, my heart already rising to my throat. 

“Sounds like a -,”  _ Date.  _ The word caught in my throat. I changed tactics quickly. “-plan. I will see you at six.”

I shot him finger guns. He looked down at them bemused and I turned to head up to my apartment silently berating myself.  _ Finger guns, really? _

* * *

“Matt, I have no idea what I’m doing,” I said, examining myself in my full length mirror, “What the hell do I even wear to a dinner party with a bunch of profilers?”

“Well is it a date?” I heard him sigh on the other line.

“I have no fucking clue!” I exclaimed, throwing my free hand up in the air, “He just said it’s a ‘small get together’ with his team.”

“Ok, so he could have invited anyone to this shindig, but he decided to invite the girl he met at a bookstore a couple of weeks ago. That looks pretty date-like to me.”

I let out a frustrated growl, twisting and turning in my mirror. My bed was a mess, half my closet strewn across the comforter. The outfit of this particular moment was a light purple, floral dress that fell right above my knees, but something still didn’t feel right.

“What does one wear to a gathering that may or may not be a date?” I exclaimed, throwing my hands up into the air and collapsing onto the bed behind me. “Why didn’t he tell me the dress code?!”

Matt laughed softly in my ear. “Because he’s a guy? Even the genius ones don’t think about that kind of stuff.”

I shoved back off the bed, struggling over the piles of clothes, and dug deeper into my closet. Finally, I found a black and white striped dress that had fit me like a glove when I bought it several years earlier. The back was slightly scooped, just enough to showcase my shoulder blades. I screwed my face up, thinking. I held the dress to my body in the mirror. 

“Matt,” I said, slowly. “If I send you a picture will you tell me your honest opinion of how I look?”

“Are you asking me if I’d tell you if you look like warm garbage?”

I rolled my eyes, smiling. “Yes, Matt. Please tell me if I look like warm garbage.”

He laughed again. “Hit me, darling.”

I put the phone down on my desk and stripped the lavender dress off. In the few minutes I had had it on, it had collected an ungodly amount of static electricity so it clung to my legs and I had to kick wildly to get it off of my body. Finally, I pulled the new dress over my head. It was a little tighter than I remembered it originally being, but I scrounged out a pair of high-waisted black tights from my disaster of a sock drawer and pulled them on under the dress. From my vantage point I thought the dress looked like a winner, but I snapped a few pictures and sent them quickly to Matt.

“Ok, what do you think?” I said, breathlessly. “Is it too much?”

I could hear Matt suck in a breath. “Jem, if he doesn’t immediately declare his love for you the second he sees you then he’s a dumbass. What shoes are you thinking of wearing?”

_ Shoes. Right. _ I peered into my closet at the scary pile of shoes. I caught a glimpse of my Doc Martins, hiding in the back corner. I had bought them on a whim on a vacation to Seattle with one of my college friends and had worn them maybe once or twice since. I snatched them up, laced them onto my feet, and sent another picture to Matt.

“Yes!” He exclaimed, “You look like a million bucks. I’d say that if he hurts you I will stomp his tall, thin, little body, but with those boots I bet you’d do just fine on your own.”

“Oh, stop,” I scoffed, turning one more time in front of my mirror. “He wouldn’t do that and  _ I _ wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Matt laughed. “Just promise me you’ll use protection and tell me every juicy detail when you get back.”

“Matthew -,” I started, but then I heard the buzzer, “You were literally saved by the bell. I will text you when I’m home, ok?”

Matt laughed one more time. “Have fun, Jem. I bet he’s a really good kisser.”

“You can’t see it, but I’m flipping you off,” I said, before ending the call. 

I bounded down the steps, heart in my mouth. I coaxed Bruno into his kennel, offering him plenty of snuggles and treats when I got home, and flung the door open.

Spencer was dressed like he almost always was - a button up, purple tie, and a dark grey sweater vest - but there was something about seeing him after hours that just made him look more irresistible. He had unbuttoned his sleeves, rolling them several times up his forearms, and I had to fight to pull my eyes away from the exposed skin. To his credit, Spencer looked like he was having the same issue, his eyes traveling from my short, curled blonde hair to my fitted dress and down to my shiny black shoes.

“Wow,” was all he managed to say.

I looked down at myself, suddenly shy. “Sorry. I’m probably really overdressed. I wasn’t sure what the dress code was so I kinda just -,”

“No, you look great!” He said, blush deepening on his cheeks even in the gathering darkness. “I - I mean, you - uh - let’s go?”

I smiled, tucking an errant curl behind my ear and stepped out into the warm summer evening, grabbing my purse before I shut the door. We fell into step next to each other, headed towards the metro station.

“So tell me about your team. What do I need to be prepared for?”

Spencer laughed, angling his smile back at me as he glanced over.

“Well, Rossi - our host - is one of the original members back in the beginning of the BAU. He’s a brilliant profiler -,”

I waved my hands out in front of him, stopping him mid-monologue.

“I don’t mean their resume,” I laughed, “Tell me about working with them. What is working with Rossi and Morgan and the rest of your team like?”

Spencer fell silent, thinking. “Well, Rossi is very particular about his food and his alcohol. He’s written so many novels about his past cases that I’m sure he could recite them all in his sleep. He’s seen a lot of twisted cases, but he doesn’t seem to let it get to him.”

We approached the metro station and squeezed onto the escalator. Seemingly without thinking, Spencer put a hand on my lower back to steer me to the side of the stair so he could join me on the same step. He removed it quickly, the blush back on his cheeks. My skin remained warm where his hand had rested.

“Uh -,” he began again, clearing his throat and shoving his hands into his pockets again, “Hotch is our unit chief. He’s in the office probably more than he’s at his own house, but he still manages to be a great dad. If I’m ever in trouble with the higher ups in the BAU I know he’s got my back.”

The train was already at the station when we made it to the bottom of the escalator. We picked up the pace, hurrying into the compartment before the doors completely slid shut. I glanced around, there were a handful of commuters, but thankfully no visible creeps.

“You’ve met Morgan,” Spencer continued, “He’s pretty much like that all the time, but if I’m ever in trouble with someone who’s trying to  _ kill me _ I know he’s got my back.”

I laughed. Spencer paused, locking eyes with me and smiling. The train rocked below us and I felt him tip towards me a little. He stood at least a full head above me, hand wrapped around the metal pole in the middle of the compartment. If I had wanted to, I probably could have kissed him.  _ I really wanted to… _

“Then there’s Emily Prentiss - she used to work in Interpol and her mom is a US Ambassador. She’s traveled around the world more than anyone else I know. She never tells us everything, but the last few places she lived in were Ukraine, France, and Italy,” Spencer was in full reminisce mode. His eyes, still on mine, were unfocused. “And JJ - Jennifer Jareau - she used to be our media liaison, but she’s almost always been a profiler. It’s just more official now.”

“You’re close with JJ, aren’t you?” I asked, “I can tell by the way your voice softened.”

Spencer focused on me again, surprised.

I blushed and looked down. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s ok,” he said, chuckling softly, “You might be a good profiler too. JJ’s one of my best friends on the team. We went to a baseball game together my first year on the team. I suppose you could call it a date, but nothing happened. She’s with one of the detectives we met on a case in New Orleans. They have a son named Henry. My godson.”

He looked so proud at the fact that he was a godfather. My heart swelled and we grinned at each other for a moment. 

“Then finally, there’s Penelope Garcia -,” he began.

“Right, Garcia who borrowed the book I recommended!” 

He nodded, smiling. “Yeah, she finished it by the way so you’ll probably be bombarded with questions and comments about the story.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” I said, smiling, “What else about Penelope?”

“Well -,” he started again, but he seemed at a loss for words, “You just have to meet Penelope.”

I laughed as the train slowed to a halt and we stepped out onto the platform “Well that sounds ominous.”

We fell into a rhythm, walking up the street of a rich looking neighborhood swapping work stories and generally enjoying each other’s presence. When we reached the top of the stairs at one of the bigger houses, Spencer took a deep breath, raised his eyebrows quickly at me, and rang the doorbell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! Thank you all for your comments and kudos! It really does make my entire week. 
> 
> All of Jemma's outfits are things currently hanging in my closet (usually from Target or, if I'm feeling fancy, Banana Republic)
> 
> Tune in next week to see what happens at Rossi's dinner party...


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma finally meets the team...

The door swung open before the first chime had even stopped reverberating throughout the house. A colorful blonde woman stood in the doorway, jems dazzling in her hair, her lips a bright bubblegum pink. As my brain registered everything in front of me she let out a squeal of delight and hurried forward to wrap me into a tight hug.

“You must be Jemma!” she exclaimed, rocking me back and forth, “Derek has been telling me all about you!”

I glanced over at Spencer, who was struggling to hold in the laugh I could see bubbling behind his lips.  _ Garcia? _ I mouthed at him. He nodded, his smile beginning to crack.

“And you must be Penelope Garcia,” I said, as she stepped back to take a good look at me.

“You would be right, Kitten,” she said, grinning, “I love everything about your outfit, especially those boots. I gotta get me a pair of them. Now, come on, let me introduce you to the team.”

She linked arms with me and we strolled into the house arm in arm. I looked quickly over my shoulder at Spencer. He was still trying not to laugh, shutting the door behind him. Penelope steered me towards the kitchen where a crowd of people were gathered. 

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet Jemma -,” she released my arm so she could gesture grandly towards me. I gave an awkward wave, “She is Spencer’s - uh -  _ friend. _ ”

Derek met my eye across the room and winked. I rolled my eyes back at him. A blonde woman stepped forward, hand outstretched. A man followed closely behind her.

“Jennifer, but you can call me JJ,” she said, shaking my hand, “This is Will, my boyfriend.”

He shook my hand too, smiling. Gradually, everyone else stepped closer to me. Morgan, Hotch (introduced as Aaron Hotchner), and Emily had arrived on their own, but Penelope drug forward a similarly colorful man she introduced as Kevin. Rossi, hard at work in the kitchen, handed me a glass of red wine with a wink.

“Nice to meet you, kid,” he said, before turning back to the pot bubbling on the stove.

We all settled comfortably around the kitchen island, not wanting to leave Rossi by his lonesome. Penelope bombarded me constantly with questions - a handful of them were about the book she had borrowed from Spencer, but a majority of them were about how Spencer and I had met and what my intentions were with her “Genius Twin.” I stole a glance back at Spencer - he was blushing, avoiding eye contact by examining his drink closely, a small smile playing on his lips. Beside him, JJ bumped his shoulder, smirking.

“Hey, he just keeps me around for the book recommendations!” I sputtered, laughing.

“Is that a euphemism for something?” Garcia said at the same time Spencer exclaimed, “That’s not true!” I felt my cheeks warm.

“Baby Girl don’t scare her away,” Morgan said, laughing. He put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, exasperated. “She’s only just joined our crazy.”

Rossi snapped a towel in our direction, “Ok everyone, the chef needs to concentrate. There are too many profilers in this kitchen. Go find a seat on the patio and the food will be out momentarily!”

With the air of two parents letting their children off on their own, Hotch hung back to help Rossi. Everyone else slowly filed out into the enormous backyard. Lights twinkled on the beams criss-crossed above us, a long table laid out underneath it. Obviously Rossi enjoyed to host, regardless of how harassed he made himself sound.

“Wow,” I murmured, looking up into the lights. I stepped further into the backyard to examine everything around me and to get a better look at the team. Derek followed me, smirking slightly.

“I’m glad you got to come meet the team,” he said, clinking his beer bottle against my wine glass, “I may or may not have made Spencer tell them about you.”

I laughed, “One chance meeting at a bookstore and I’m all the team can talk about? Don’t you guys have serial killers to catch?”

He grinned back at me, “Hey, we’re profilers. We can multitask.” He took a swig of beer, looking back toward the group. They had clumped together around the table, talking animatedly, their voices overlapping. “Besides, Pretty Boy hasn’t talked about anyone outside of our team like he talks about you.”

I looked up at him in alarm. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he’s always been a little shy and a little awkward, but something about meeting you has changed that.” He shrugged, looking back down at me, “Something about you puts a smile on his face and we don’t always get to see that with Dr. Reid.”

I turned back to the group. Spencer was looking around the patio for something, a small wrinkle of concern on his brow. Derek raised his beer at him, grabbing his attention, and Spencer’s eyes found mine. The wrinkle smoothed and his lips split into a smile. Derek took another sip, the smugness radiating off of him.

“I’m just saying, he never looks that happy to see me when I walk in the building.”

I punched his shoulder lightly and he ducked away toward the table laughing. After a moment, I followed him, my heart in my throat. When I reached the table, Spencer pulled a chair out for me and fell into the seat next to it. I smiled at him, ignoring the knowing looks Emily and Derek exchanged or the fact that Penelope looked like she was about to explode with excitement.

“So, I’ve only heard what Spencer has to say about you,” I said, eyeing the Doctor with what I hoped was a mischievous glint, “Tell me about what Spencer is like at the BAU.”

The table erupted in laughter and Spencer playfully glared at them.

“Kid, I could tell you stories for days,” Derek started, “There was that one time he freaked out when we got stuck in an elevator -,”

“ _ I  _ freaked out?” Spencer exclaimed, “You were just as terrified. Hotch!”

Spencer turned, calling into the doorway to the kitchen where Hotch and Rossi were coming, arms laden with delicious smelling dishes.

“Tell Jemma about the time Morgan had a panic attack when he and I got trapped in an elevator.”

Hotch smiled, it looked like something that didn’t happen very often, but it suited his face. He placed the dishes on the table, pausing to formulate his answer.

“If I remember correctly, you both tumbled out of that elevator in a panic,” he said at last, settling at one end of the table.

“Lies,” Morgan hissed, pointing first at Hotch and then at Spencer.

We began dishing out the food. A few times Spencer passed a dish to me and our fingers briefly pressed together. Each time we’d make quick eye contact and look away blushing. Once I looked away only to see Emily smirking at me. I took a deep breath, willing my heart rate to slow.

“Jemma, did you know Spencer’s a great practical joker?” Emily asked, in between bites of pasta. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled at me. “Just this last week as we were flying home after a case he got Morgan pretty good.”

I glanced in between Morgan and Spencer, my eyes wide. “No, I did not know that. Please tell me more.”

Morgan scowled at Spencer who just smirked. “It’s not over, kid. You’d better watch your back.”

Spencer laughed and turned to me. “Derek thought it would be great if he gave out my number during an investigation so I kept getting calls from journalists asking for a statement. I hacked into his mp3 player and phone and played him the sounds of my screaming.”

I stared at him for a moment. “Remind me never to get on your bad side, Doctor.”

* * *

Dinner had been cleared hours ago, the dishes soaking in Rossi’s industrial sized kitchen sink. The evening had cooled, a slight chill in the air, but we remained outside. We had abandoned the table, as moths fluttered low over the fairy lights. Instead, we crowded onto the patio furniture a few feet away. Rossi had been a good host, refilling my wine glass every time it got low and I could feel a low buzz in my head. The rest of the team seemed to feel the same. I could see JJ’s eyes drooping, and Penelope had a habit of suddenly giggling for no reason relating to what was being said. Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan had swapped their various beverages for a small amount of port. Rossi had pompously announced that “you’re not a man unless you drink port after a good dinner” and the men (even including Will and Keven who, until this point, had been mostly quiet) had taken him up on the offer. Only Spencer remained sober, his soda sweating in its glass. 

It had been a wonderful evening. Any fear I had about meeting a team of profilers had dissipated and I already felt like a member of their group, despite my lack of a badge and gun. I had already exchanged numbers with Penelope (though that was mainly because Penelope had snatched my phone out of my hand and forcibly input her number before I had realized what she had done) and she, JJ, Emily, and I had already made plans to meet up sometime for coffee or drinks. It had been a long time since I had anything close to a Girls Night and the idea of one in the near future gave me a warm feeling in my chest.

Now I was fighting to keep my eyes open. Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Will were hotly debating their toughest cases, but their voices had fallen to a background hum as I dropped my head back on the couch and looked up into the stars. 

“Hey,” a quiet voice said next to me. I rolled my head sluggishly and suddenly I was inches away from Spencer. “You ok?”

I nodded my head slightly, stopping when it set the world spinning. “I think your boss got me a little drunk,” I managed. “‘M just looking up at the stars hoping it will stop the world from spinning for a second.”

Spencer laid his head back next to mine, staring up at the stars as well.

“You know the Earth rotates once every 23 hours, 56 minutes, and 4.09053 seconds,” he rattled off, murmuring so that only I could hear, “That and the fact that its circumference is roughly 40,075 kilometers means that the surface of the earth at the equator moves at a speed of 460 meters per second - or roughly 1,000 miles per hour.”

I blew a gust of air out, puffing up my cheeks. “Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe don’t tell the drunk girl how fast we’re actually spinning?”

He chuckled, the laugh low in my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “Sorry.”

I closed my eyes for a second, the spinning sensation intensifying. I felt someone tap my knee. When I lifted my heavy head, I saw Rossi. I hadn’t even heard him get up and head into the kitchen. He had a tall glass of ice water stretched out towards me, a small smile on his face.

“Sounds like you might need this,” he said. I could hear a slight mocking tone in his voice. I took the glass, sheepishly.

“Thanks,” I said, taking a couple sips of water. The spinning didn’t stop, but I could practically feel the wine soaked cells in my body sigh in relief. “Is it pretty obvious that I don’t drink very often? I blame you and your amazing food.”

Rossi laughed, settling back in his armchair and swirling his port around. I finished the glass and put my head back down. I closed my eyes for a moment and then -

“Jem - hey, Jem -,” someone was calling my name. I could feel something soft under my cheek. It smelled like old books and a little like lavender. Someone shook my shoulder softly. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. 

The sky was pitch black, the porch lights still twinkling. Most of the team was gone - only Hotch and Rossi remained, talking quietly by the kitchen door. I lifted my head, looking for everyone else and realized I had been using the Doctor as a pillow.

I brought a hand to my mouth  _ (had I been drooling? _ ) and looked up at him. He smiled down at me, his eyes soft and warm.

“Where is everyone?” I asked, looking away to stop my stomach from somersaulting. 

“JJ and Will headed out a while ago,” he said, “To relieve the babysitter. They wanted me to tell you they enjoyed meeting you. Emily and Morgan are debating the benefits of different fighting styles in the kitchen judging by their rising voices. Penelope and Kevin actually just got up to leave, but Garcia is refusing to go until she can say good-bye to you. That’s why I had to wake you up.”

He smiled at me sheepishly. My smile mirrored his.

“Sorry about that,” I said, my hands over my eyes to try and wake myself up more. “Like I said, I don’t drink very often so you give me one drink and I’m out. I think Rossi gave me enough for an entire bottle.”

I pushed myself up off the couch to begin heading toward the house, but the second I straightened, the world tipped and I stumbled. Spencer was there within seconds, his hand wrapped around mine, an arm around my shoulders

“Whoa,” he said, chuckling. “You weren’t kidding. Maybe we should also head out and get you home.”

“I told you I’m a lightweight,” I giggled, unable to stop myself.

Hotch and Rossi watched the two of us stumble toward the door, their eyebrows raised. I could see them exchange a look as I passed them by. Morgan and Emily stopped mid-debate as we rounded the corner. Spencer deposited me at the island next to them, explaining he was going to look for my purse and Garcia.

“You alright, kid?” Morgan asked, laughing slightly. I groaned and Emily rubbed my back.

“How come I’m the only one completely trashed?” I asked, leaning heavily on the island, my head in my hands.

Emily laughed. “We all have to cope with the job somehow. I’d say we’ve all built up a tolerance by now.”

“What about Spence?” I asked, peering up at her. She blinked, unsure.

“He - uh - he doesn’t drink,” she said. Obviously there was more to this story, but I wasn’t in the right state to follow up. “He must really like you.”

I furrowed my brow and peered blearily up at her. “What makes you say that? Because I got drunk?”

She waved her hands in an apologetic gesture. 

“No, no! Not that at all. It’s just -,” she looked toward Morgan for help.

“Reid is a bit of a germaphobe,” Morgan said simply, like that answered my question.

“O...k?”

He sighed, smiling.

“Reid doesn’t shake hands or initiate any kind of physical contact. I think, of our team, JJ is the only person who’s ever actually hugged the kid more than three seconds at a time.” Morgan pointed towards the open kitchen door. “We just saw him walk you through those doors, holding your hand. Something about you is different. He’s got it bad.”

I stared at them for a second, my mouth opening and closing trying to find words. Before I could answer, Spencer was back, my purse slung over his shoulder.

“Ready?” He said, “Let’s get you home and maybe get you some more water.”

“Have a nice night you two,” Morgan said, winking at me. Emily waved, a small smile playing on her lips. I waved back slowly, still confused as to what had just happened.

* * *

Spencer and I separated from Penelope and Kevin at the end of Rossi’s street. Penelope had gathered me into another big hug, rocking me back and forth before Spencer gently plucked me from her arms noticing the pained expression on my face. We made the trip back to my apartment mostly in silence, I needed to focus extra hard on walking particularly down the stairs of the metro especially while he still had his arm around me for support. Spencer, bless his heart, did his best to help with minimal grins or laughs at my expense. When we settled into seats in an empty compartment, I couldn’t help myself from resting my head back on his shoulder. Perhaps it was just the shifting of the train on the tracks, but for a quick moment or two I felt a slight weight on the top of my head as though Spencer had rested his cheek against my hair.

Thankfully we made it to my house with minimal issues - even with the uneven sidewalk. By this point I had sobered up enough to unlock my house (something I had been a little worried about earlier in the trip), but Spencer still insisted on hooking Bruno up to his leash and walking him around outside in the dark. I made my way into the kitchen to chug a glass of water. The fuzzy feeling in my head dissipated slightly.

I heard the door shut in the hallway and heard the jingle of Bruno’s collar as he came to find me. I felt the small dog sniff my ankle as I heard Spencer clear his throat. When I turned back to him he was silhouetted in my kitchen doorway. I placed the glass next to the sink - I’d probably chug at least one more glass of water before heading up to bed - and took a few steps toward him.

“Thanks,” I said, practically whispering. “You know, for inviting me and also for making sure I made it home ok.”

He nodded, hands shoved in his pockets. “No problem. I’m glad you got to meet my team. I think they really like you.”

I smiled, “I really like them. They seem like a great group of people to work with.”

We fell into silence, unable to look at each other.  _ What happens now? _

Spencer cleared his throat. “Well, I’d better go before the metro shuts down for the night.”

_ What if you stayed?  _ “Right. Yeah. Let me walk you out,” I said, following him to the front door.

He stepped out into the night air and turned back to me. We looked at each other for a long moment, his brown eyes meeting mine. I couldn’t help but think back to Morgan’s comment,  _ ‘Something about you is different. He’s got it bad.’ _

I released the door frame - unaware I had been gripping it - and opened my mouth to speak.

“Make sure you drink some more water,” he said suddenly. “You’re supposed to have a 16oz glass of water for each alcoholic drink you ingest. You’ve had at least five glasses of wine so you should have three to four more glasses of water tonight.”

I had to fight the urge to laugh. Pressing my lips together, I nodded at him. 

“Will do, Doc,” I said, saluting him. 

He laughed and there was another long pause.

“Have a good night, Spence,” I murmured.

He nodded, “You too, Jem.”

Hesitating slightly, I opened my arms towards him. He blinked for a moment and then stepped forward, wrapping his arms around me. I could feel him bury his face in my shoulder and I prayed he couldn’t feel the way my heart sped. One of my hands curled around his neck, fingertips playing with the short hair at the nape of his neck. He shivered a little and I tightened my hold and mimicked him, burying my face into the crook of his neck breathing in the scent of old books and lavender before we stepped apart. We stared at each other one more second, a hint of confusion behind his eyes and then he turned away.

I closed the door and slid to the floor, breathing hard. Bruno came to investigate, climbing onto my lap and cocking his head in question. 

_ Something about you puts a smile on his face and we don’t always get to see that with Dr. Reid. _

I grinned to myself, pulling Bruno into a hug until he squirmed away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday, ya'll! I hope you had a great week and that you enjoyed this chapter! I spent a good chunk of time yesterday mapping out where I want the story to go and how I want it to end and I think you guys are really going to like it. ;)


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Throughout various cases Spencer learns how to be himself and how to talk to Jemma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday, ya'll! I have a busy day at work tomorrow so I thought I'd post this chapter a little early just in case I don't have time to post tomorrow morning. I hope you enjoy!

_Quantico, VA_

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

Spencer looked up from his phone, gaze slightly unfocused. He had been staring at Jemma’s number for what felt like hours. JJ stood in front of his desk, arms crossed, looking concerned. Her eyes narrowed on the screen in front of him and the strain eased out of her shoulders as she read Jemma’s name across the top.

“She’s great by the way,” she said, sinking onto the desk beside him, “Not every girl can be thrown into a dinner with a team of profilers and not immediately head for the hills.”

Spencer looked back down at the screen. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard, but he couldn’t come up with the words. He had never been one to text people, but this was particularly difficult. 

“Are you going to ask her out for a second date?”

He looked up suddenly at her. “A second date?”

JJ laughed, at a loss for words. “Spence, you invited her to a dinner party with your co-workers. The only other people who were there were Will and Kevin. Admittedly it was a strange first date, but I’d say that was a date.”

His mouth felt suddenly dry. “But, we didn’t say anything about a date! I just wanted to introduce her to the team. I - I - I mean I _would_ ask her, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to -,”

JJ put a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“Spence, take a breath.” JJ smiled. “Don’t overthink it. When you asked her to dinner she could have said no, but she didn’t.”

She patted his shoulder. Spencer gave her a small smile, still stuck in his own thoughts. She smiled once, nodded, and got up to settle at her own desk for the day. Their discussion still swirling in his head, Spencer stared at the screen of his phone a moment longer before locking the screen and taking a deep breath.

Morgan settled his bag on the desk across from Spencer, smirking. He glanced over to JJ, who shrugged smiling. 

“Kid, just ask her out,” he said, laughing, “We saw the two of you at Rossi’s the other night. She would say yes in a heartbeat.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, glaring up at Morgan. Before he could retort, however, Garcia blew in like a hurricane.

“Avengers assemble,” she said, breathlessly without slowing down, “We’ve got a case.”

Thankful for the distraction, Spencer was out of his seat before the rest of the team had even registered it. Emily, who had just set her bag in her chair, threw her head back and sighed.

“Just once I’d like to have a cup of coffee before looking at the horrible things people do to each other.”

Morgan laughed, clapping her on the back and they all followed Spencer into the briefing room. They settled at the table, pulling their files to them. With Rossi still missing, Hotch held out a hand to stop Garcia from beginning the briefing. Spencer’s phone buzzed.

JH: Don’t forget your book!

She had attached a picture. It was a fairly straightforward picture: the book she had recommended a few weeks ago, _Station Eleven_ , was obviously still hidden behind the register at the Raven Bookstore. She had laid it out on the counter, but had flipped the camera into selfie-mode. The bottom right corner of the photo just showed a couple blonde curls, a raised eyebrow, and one hazel eye bugged out wide. Spencer snorted, unable to stop the laugh as it escaped. Everyone looked up at him, alarmed. Morgan peered over his shoulder and chuckled.

“See Lover Boy, what’d I tell you?” he said, aiming a punch at Spencer’s arm, “She’d say yes in a heartbeat.”

“Ooh are we talking about Jemma?!” Penelope said, clapping excitedly. “Let’s talk about Jemma! She is a _much_ better conversation piece than the horrors I have to see every day.”

“What’d she send you?” Emily asked, trying to peer over Spencer’s other shoulder. Spencer tried to pull the phone away, but instead Morgan grabbed it and held it away from him.

“Morgan, give it back!” Spencer said, stretching over Morgan’s body to grab at the phone. It was just out of reach and JJ grabbed it before he could extend himself further.

Examining the photo closer, JJ placed a hand on her chest. “Aw, Spence, this is so cute!”

She turned the phone towards the table so that everyone could see. Penelope squealed, snapping her fingers at the phone until JJ handed it over. Spencer could see Penelope pinching her fingers across his screen, trying to zoom in on the photo for any unseen clues they might have missed.

“Boy Genius,” she said, looking up at him with actual tears of happiness in her eyes. “I can tell you’ve got a good one. She’s cute, she’s got great fashion taste, she’s well-read, _and_ she’s funny. You’d better snatch her up quick or I might.”

Spencer leaned forward, snagging the phone from her grip before she could pull it away from him.

“Thank you everyone,” he growled sarcastically, more embarrassed than angry. “I really appreciate your input into my personal life.”

Morgan laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “We’re just looking out for you, kid. We’ve seen the way you look when she’s around.”

“Like the sun has just come out,” Penelope said wistfully. She placed her chin in the cradle of her hands, eyes slightly unfocused. “Just like a fairytale.”

Thankfully Rossi snuck into the conference room, apologizing for his tardiness and pulling the team’s attention away from Spencer and his warming cheeks. For a moment Hotch remained staring at him, a small smile playing on his thin lips. Then he turned to Garcia, nodding to her to start the briefing. He glanced at his phone one last time, Jemma’s eye still zoomed up close on the screen. Suddenly he remembered standing on her doorstep, unable to leave because of those eyes. He clicked the screen closed, smiling to himself.

* * *

_St. Louis, Missouri_

Spencer opened the bedroom door with a grimace. He had seen this before with his own mother and, occasionally, in his own apartment. It didn’t matter how many times he came face to face with it - finding commonalities in unsubs and their victims was always hard on him. He sighed, stepping further into the dark, dusty room.

“Cheerful,” he heard Morgan say behind him.

“Depression is a vicious cycle. It frequently manifests itself in the degradation of one’s personal living environment, which in turn, fuels the depression, which then worsens the living environment.” 

Morgan looked around, for once at a loss for words. They made eye contact across the room, understanding the difficulty of this situation without saying a word. Morgan planted his hands on his hips, examining the space around him.

“I’ll take a look around in here. Why don’t you check out the kitchen?”

Spencer scoffed, humorlessly. “The kitchen.”

“Is that a problem?” Derek asked, peering over his shoulder at him, one eyebrow quirked.

Spencer gestured around at the room. “Frankly, I’m not too anxious to see the perishable food version of this room.”

Morgan stared at him a moment before frowning and nodding, conceding defeat. Spencer ducked out of the room, feeling a little like a vice had been slightly released on his chest. He and Morgan examined the house individually for a little bit before Spencer went looking for the other man again. He found him, still within the mother’s room, frowning.

“Four pairs of shoes,” was all he said.

“Why exactly is that relevant?” Spencer said, standing next to Morgan so he could peer into the closet as well.

“Come on, Reid, how many women you know only have four pairs of shoes in their closet? Do you think Jemma only has four pairs of shoes?”

Spencer stared back at Morgan, sputtering at him.

“I have no idea how many pairs of shoes Jemma has. My experience in and around _any_ woman’s closet, let alone Jemma’s, isn’t exactly extensive enough to really formulate an opinion.”

Morgan turned away, headed to the missing boy’s room, slightly laughing to himself. “The answer is none. You can take my word for it.”

They stepped into the boy’s room and the atmosphere was a complete 180 from his mother’s. Spencer took a moment in the doorframe to take it all in. The curtains were pulled open, sunlight streaming in to light the room. Nothing was out of place - Bobby’s desk was well organized and obviously untouched and his bed completely made. Spencer frowned, turning back to remind himself of the darkness in the last room.

“So kid,” Morgan started, physically in profiler mode as he examined Bobby’s sheets, but Spencer could tell by Morgan’s tone that he was about to field more Jemma questions. “When do you think you’ll get experience in and around Jemma’s closet?”

Spencer threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. “Morgan, what does that even _mean?!”_

Morgan sat back on his heels and laughed, profiler duties momentarily forgotten.

“I’m just pulling your leg, Pretty Boy,” he said, swiping an arm across his eyes, “The whole team is rooting for you, you know? We think Jemma is great and, from what I saw at Rossi’s the other night, she thinks you’re pretty great.”

Spencer huffed, avoiding eye contact.

“Kid, remember what I told you in Boise?”

Spencer muttered something, too low for Morgan to hear.

“What was that, Doc?”

“I don’t know how to talk to her.”

“Yes, you do, Reid. Now - what did I tell you in Boise?”

Spencer sighed, blowing air out his mouth in a loud puff. He looked toward the ceiling.

“Be myself.”

“Exactly. Now let’s save Bobby and get you back home in time to ask Jemma out on a second date.”

Spencer’s eyes darted back to Morgan, who was grinning at him. Morgan shrugged. “JJ may have told me about your conversation back in the office. Or I may have overheard it. Either way, I still can’t believe you didn’t think your invitation wasn’t a _date._ ”

Spencer rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Let’s just get back to work.”

Morgan’s laughs quieted to chuckles. “Whatever you say, Lover Boy.”

* * *

The case had been a bittersweet one. They had located the unsub and the location he was holding his victims, saving a mother, her teenage daughter, and Bobby Smith, but Spencer didn’t think he’d ever forget the lost look on Bobby Smith’s face as they led him into the station. His grandmother had returned from her girl’s trip across the state as soon as she had heard he was missing, but had yet to make it into the station. He had sat with Bobby until she arrived, wringing her hands and looking worried. Spencer could tell Bobby would be in good hands, but his heart twisted a little at Bobby’s solemn face. He took one last look at the small boy before turning to follow the team out to the waiting SUVs. He desperately wanted to talk to Jemma. She had quickly become his window outside of the BAU world, his breath of fresh air when things got a little too heavy at work.

He pulled out his phone, looking around the car as he did so. JJ was in the back seat, her head resting against the car window, eyes closed. Spencer could tell she wasn’t asleep, but he understood the desire to want to block the world out. Emily was next to her, gazing out at the passing scenery. Morgan, at the wheel, glanced at Spencer once, his eyes darting to the phone in Spencer’s lap, but didn’t say anything. 

Spencer unlocked the screen realizing that it was probably too late to send a message to Jemma. Instead, he opened the photo she had sent him last. Even without her entire face in view, just seeing a part of it lifted his spirits a little. If nothing else, the ache of leaving a child in an uncertain future eased and a new ache, the ache of wanting to see someone who makes you feel safe, replaced it.

The team piled onto the jet, each finding their own space to stretch out and attempt to catch a few moments of sleep. After waiting a moment to see where everyone would settle, Spencer stretched out on the couch. He attempted to read - his fifth reread of _A Tree Grows in Brooklyn_ \- but quickly found his eyes beginning to droop. When he resigned himself to sleep, Jemma’s face was there, looking up at him. Instead of staring at her like he had done the night he had dropped her off after Rossi’s he took two quick steps towards her, his hands cradling either side of her face. He bent to kiss her -,

The plane shook, hitting a patch of turbulence. The book, resting on his chest, hit the floor and Spencer was awake again. He looked around at the team scattered around the cabin. Most were asleep and those who weren’t were too wrapped up in their own methods of leaving this case behind to notice him. He scrubbed his hands over his face and tried to fall back into his dream to no avail.

* * *

_Quantico, Virginia_

Paperwork finally done, the team made their ways to the elevator. As they waited for the doors to open Morgan, probably suffering from sleep deprivation, seemed to remember something and began to chuckle to himself.

“What’s up?” Emily said, masking a yawn behind her hand.

“Oh nothing,” Morgan said, still chuckling and shaking his hand, “I’m just remembering a conversation I had with the kid back in St. Louis.”

Spencer peered back at him, mentally reviewing every conversation he had had with Morgan the last few days. Then it came to him.

“Look, how am I supposed to know how many pairs of shoes a stereotypical woman has in her closet?”

JJ, Emily, and Garcia (looking much more put together than the rest of the team) laughed for a moment, unable to add to the conversation. Spencer pouted a little.

“How about 10 pairs of shoes? I mean, that has to be enough, right? Ten?”

JJ shook her head, “Spence, it’s different with the ladies. We need them to match our belts, our handbags, our skirts, and the fashions change with the seasons.”

Garcia nodded imperiously, “Yes. Boys are so boring. Pants, shoes, out the door.” She punched Morgan lightly on the arm. He grabbed it like she had actually hurt him, feigning pain.

“Although, it’s not like men don’t have their things,” Emily said, voice raising over Morgan’s protests, “I dated a golfer once. He had 12 putters in his closet.” She paused for a second, her brow furrowing. “But this conversation is reminding me I need new boots.”

She, Penelope, and JJ crowded into the elevator. 

“They’re having a sale at DeMille’s on those tall-shaft kitty heels. You like those. Do you want to go?”

Emily nodded, and Penelope grinned, clapping her hands excitedly. Morgan threw an arm over Spencer’s shoulder.

“You getting all this, kid?”

Spencer shook his head, stepping into the elevator “No.”

They rode the elevator down to the parking lot, each profiler attempting to explain this confusing shoe rule to Spencer. They parted ways in the parking lot: JJ and Morgan headed to their own respective homes to get some rest, Emily and Garcia headed out to buy some shoes. Spencer knew he probably should head to his apartment. He could feel the beginning of a migraine behind his left eye - a side effect of lack of sleep and excessive caffeine intake - but, he found himself boarding the train headed in the opposite direction. Leaning against the grey wall as the train swayed below him, he pulled out his phone and dialed the number he had been thinking about for hours.

“Hello?” She sounded sleepy, like he had just woken her up. Cursing slightly to himself he flicked his wrist so he could see the face of his watch. _6:15. Definitely too early_.

“Jem?” he said, cringing at the sound of his own voice. _Was it too high pitched? Did it just crack?_ “I’m sorry if I woke you. I didn’t realize how early it was.”

“Spence?” She definitely sounded like someone who had just woken up. He tried not to imagine what she looked like - slightly disheveled, tangled in blankets that were no doubt soft and warm. He swallowed hard.

“Yeah, it’s me. I just got back from a case and I was about to pick up breakfast somewhere,” his mouth felt unbearably dry. This was worse than when he apparently asked her out to Rossi’s. “I was wondering if maybe you wanted to join me before you opened up the bookstore today, but I understand if it’s too early. I lost track of time and didn’t realize how early it was -,”

“ _Spence_ ,” she said, catching his attention before he rambled on too long, “Breakfast sounds great as long as you buy me the strongest coffee there is.”

He could hear a subtle smile in her words. It may have been early, but she was happy to talk to him, happy to _see_ him.

“Great!” he said, cringing again at the amount of enthusiasm in that one word, “I’m on the Metro right now. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Is that enough time for you?”

He could hear her shifting around, no doubt forcing herself out of bed to get ready. He thought he heard the jangling of Bruno’s collar as he leapt from the bed to the floor.

“I will be ready,” she said, sounding a little breathless. Was she hurrying to get ready? Was she as excited to see him as he was to see her? “I’ll see you then, Spence!”

She ended the call and Spencer tucked the phone back in his pocket feeling lighter than he had in days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just finished all 12 seasons on Netflix and now I'm waiting for the 13, 14, and 15 DVDs to become available at my local library. Let me tell you it was difficult to force myself to watch that last season with Morgan and then Hotch leaving and then all the stuff with sweet, baby Reid. I am confident if Hotch and Morgan were still on the team Spence would not have gone to prison.
> 
> Have a great weekend everybody! I'll see you next Friday!


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer and Jemma have breakfast and Spencer picks up a new book...

We agreed to meet at a local diner not too far from The Raven Bookstore. Matt was expecting me to be there at 8:30am to open for the day, but when I told him I was grabbing breakfast with Spencer first he sent me a message in response that just said, “take your time” with about twenty winky emojis.

I saw Spencer before he saw me. I stopped before I fully rounded the corner, taking a few moments to watch him. Even from my vantage point he looked tired. His sleeves were rolled up in that distracting way I loved so much, but his sweater vest looked a little rumpled like he had slept in it. He looked around nervously, obviously looking for me. I could see him muttering a little bit to himself as he began to pace. Occasionally he nodded to himself, his hands gesticulating slightly like he was lecturing a class.  _ Was he giving himself a pep talk? _

I pulled back away from his line of sight and straightened my clothes. It was still relatively warm, but there was a hint of chill in the air so I had pulled some black skinny jeans out of the pile I still had yet to put away and threw a cropped sweatshirt on top of that. I patted my hair, anxiously. I hadn’t had enough time to do anything fancy, opting instead to pull it up into a bun, but I felt like a frizzy mess compared to Spencer even though he was wrinkled. I took a deep breath and stepped out into the sunlight.

His face split into a grin the moment he saw me and he took a couple long steps to meet me, his arms extending as if to offer me a hug, before he seemed to come to himself, jerking to a halt.

“Hi,” he said, a smile still lighting up his face.

“Hi,” I replied, “Welcome back.”

I stepped closer, closing the distance between us and wrapping my arms around him, pulling him toward me. He stiffened slightly, his breath catching in his throat. Finally, he seemed to deflate, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face into my shoulder. I heard him sigh in relief and he softened further, tightening his hold on me. He smelled like he usually did: old books and lavender, but there was a hint of stale coffee. He had obviously been up late - perhaps he hadn’t even slept at all. We pulled away and I could see the purple bags underneath his eyes.

He turned, gesturing toward the door of the restaurant. I felt his hand rest on the small of my back again, his thumb brushing against the exposed skin there and a shiver ran down my spine. When I looked up, a blush was spreading across his cheeks. 

He cleared his throat. “Sorry I woke you up so early,” he said, his hand pulling away as we ducked into the restaurant.

“Don’t worry about it,” I laughed, as we followed the hostess to a booth by the window. “I needed to get up anyway. This way at least I get to eat breakfast.”

We settled down across from each other, immediately requesting coffee with plenty of cream and sugar. He looked down at the menu, evidently attempting to look like he was trying to decide what he wanted, but I could see his eyes weren’t moving.

“How was the case?” I asked, “Hopefully it wasn’t a difficult one.”

He lifted his eyes to mine. Something behind them seemed to gleam, like there was some build up of emotion he wasn’t sure how to release. He looked around the restaurant, attempting to find the words.

“It was good,” he said at last, “Well, maybe  _ good _ isn’t the word. We were able to save a family before the unsub got to them, but we weren’t there in time to save a little boy’s mother.”

He looked back down at the menu, unable to meet my gaze. Without thinking, I reached across the table and covered his hand with my own. It was soft and smooth, but I could feel the beginning of a callus on the base of his index finger where I imagined his gun rested whenever he was thrown into dangerous situations.

“Hey,” I said quietly, ducking my head to catch his eye, “You told me that the job is tough, but you remember how important your job is when you reunite someone with their family. You were able to stop an unsub from tearing another family apart. You can’t save everyone.”

He gazed at me, the emotion building behind his brown eyes again. Finally, he nodded and gave a shaky laugh.

“I didn’t mean to make breakfast so serious,” he said, “I just -,”

He hesitated, his eyes on our hands, still joined at the middle of the table. Finally he lifted them to look at me.

“The whole time we were in St. Louis I just wanted to talk to you,” he said, his voice barely a murmur.

I felt my heart rise to my throat and my brain went blank. He stared at me a second, looking like a man who had just jumped off a cliff without a parachute, but before either of us could say anything our waitress - a bored looking woman in her mid-20s - sidled up to the table carrying our mugs of coffee, a pitcher of cream, and a carafe.

“Are we ready to order?” She asked, pulling her notebook out of her pocket and clicking her pen a couple of times.

The moment interrupted, Spencer and I pulled away from each other. He folded his hands together on top of the menu. I placed mine in my lap, subconsciously twisting my fingers. The waitress, probably still half-asleep, suddenly seemed to realize she had interrupted something and had the decency to look a little abashed about it.

Spencer gave her a tight smile. “I think I need a few more minutes.”

She nodded once and ducked away quickly, not even looking in my direction. Spencer turned back to face me, his eyes slowly sliding back to mine. He looked away quickly, obviously uncomfortable. My heart ached for him.  _ Did he expect rejection? Does he really think that little of himself? _

I leaned forward, placing my elbows on the table and lacing my hands together. 

“I worry about you when you’re gone, you know?”

His eyebrows lifted, obviously surprised. “Worry?”

I nodded, laughing a little to myself, examining my twisting fingers. “You and your team fly all over the country catching the worst kinds of people and putting yourselves into all kinds of dangerous situations. Everytime I hear from you - even if it's at six in the morning - I can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.”

My favorite smile began to spread across his face, slow and sweet. He ducked his head shyly toward the menu, but I could still see that smile. My smile mirrored his own and we fell into a comfortable silence, unable to meet each other’s eyes. The waitress, aware the earlier awkwardness had passed, pulled up to the table, her pen clicking excitedly.

“Ready?” she said.

* * *

Our bellies fit to bursting with breakfast food and endless amounts of coffee, Spencer and I took our time meandering towards the bookstore. We had spent the meal discussing our lives - he told me a little bit more about his childhood in Las Vegas and how his mother had shaped him into who he was today. I told him more about the trips I had taken with my family as a kid - including the trip to Virginia that had stuck in my brain and resulted in my move. 

We walked together closely, our arms brushing each other. We had fallen into silence, but I couldn’t help but steal glances at him out of the corner of my eye. Every now and then we’d make eye contact and both of us would be unable to keep the smile spreading across our faces. When The Raven Bookstore came into view we slowed, not wanting to reach our destination and have to part ways. I glanced down at my phone, keeping an eye on the time. I looked towards the darkened shop and then inspiration struck.

“Do you want to pick up that book you reserved?” I asked.

He looked confused for a moment and then smiled, “Sure.”

He fell into step beside me, a new pep in my step now that I had a few more moments with him. I unlocked the front door, the feeling of him behind me causing me to fumble a little, and gestured him inside. He stepped inside smiling and I followed close behind. 

The shop was quiet and still, the only lights coming from one emergency light in the corner and the blinking light of the computer monitor at the register. I brushed past him, using the semi-darkness as an excuse to brush my hand against his exposed forearm. I felt it lift as though he were reaching up to capture my hand, but he miscalculated and our fingers merely grazed before I slid by and behind the register. 

"Here you go," I said, pulling the book out from next to the money drawer.

He reached for it with his right hand, his left reaching toward his pocket for his wallet, but I shook my head.

"Don't worry about it," I said, waving my free hand dismissively, "Consider it a loan."

He blinked at me, beginning to splutter at me. 

"But I can't just take this without paying -," he began.

"Spence, just take the book," I said laughing, shaking the book slightly, "Like I said, it's a loan so you'd better come back to return it."

He smiled at me, laughing slightly and grabbed the book from my hand. He examined the cover, obviously at a loss for words. We stood in silence for a moment before his phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and I saw his shoulders fall a fraction of an inch in disappointment. 

"Another case already?" I guessed. He looked up at me sadly.

"Serial killers never take a break," he said quietly.

I nodded, suddenly unable to look at him. I examined my fingernails, disappointed.

"Well," I said, taking a deep breath, "Let me at least walk you out."

I walked back around the desk, suddenly anxious. I didn't want him to go, but I didn't know how to express that without feeling like I was throwing myself at him. He followed me back out of the store in silence, just as stuck in his own thoughts as I was. We stopped just outside the door. He was examining the front cover of the book again, a wrinkle of frustration across his brow.

Without thinking, I found myself reaching up to place a hand on his cheek, my thumb swiping across the purple bags under his eye. His eyes met mine in surprise.

"You work too hard, Doctor," I murmured, "Promise me you'll try to get some rest?"

He nodded mutely. His phone buzzed again and we both looked down at it. Obviously anxious she hadn’t heard from Spencer, Penelope had resorted to calling him. Feeling brave, I lifted up onto my tiptoes and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. Heart pounding, I stepped back and we stared at each other a moment.

"Stay safe, Spence," I said before darting back into the store. 

When I turned back he had turned to go, but I could see a blush creeping up his neck and his hand had raised to brush against where my lips had met his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday, ya'll! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you to everyone who has sent me kudos and commented. I love hearing what you think!


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer tries to break down what he's feeling and his team is there to help

There was radio silence for a couple of days after our breakfast together and the kiss goodbye. Every now and then I’d open up my texting app to send Spencer a quick message, but I could never find the words. Several times I opened the app to see those three little dots dancing at the bottom of my screen. Somewhere, miles away, Spencer was having similar issues composing his thoughts.

_...I just wanted to talk to you... _ the thought made the silence a little more bearable.

* * *

_ San Fernando, California _

“So you’re telling me she told you she cares about you  _ and _ she kissed you on the cheek and you  _ haven’t talked to her since?!” _ Garcia shrieked. Spencer had to pull the phone away from his ear.

“Garcia, can you please pull information on people who were declared legally dead and then made a miraculous recovery?” Spencer pleaded, desperately trying to pull Garcia back on track, “Specifically people who claimed to have some kind of life-altering experience.”

“Boy Genius, you know I can do that, but when I’m done I’m going to call you back and we’re going to continue our discussion,” Garcia said, attempting a motherly and intimidating voice. It was slightly ruined by the fact that she sounded like she was pouting. “Just don’t let this one get away! I like her and I  _ know _ you like her.”

“Ok, Garcia. Thank you for everything you do.”

“Yeah, yeah. Worship at my temple of love and righteousness.”

Spencer clicked his phone shut, slowly turning to face JJ and Emily. The three of them had been left behind at the precinct to continue trying to craft a geographical profile and discover the unsub’s motivations. They had been sharing a look of some kind across the briefing table, something they didn’t hide very well when he faced them.

“What?” He said, resigned to the discussion he was inevitably going to have now.

“What’d you do to make Garcia mad?” Emily said, straightening and planting her fists on her hips, “I thought I heard something about a kiss.”

JJ leveled her gaze on Spencer, smirking. She crossed her arms and waited. Spencer looked between the two of them making a calculated decision. When he realized he wasn’t going to get out of this conversation he sighed, planting his hands on the table and leaning heavily onto it.

“Ok, I took Jemma out to breakfast before we left for this case -,” JJ and Emily’s entire faces lit up. They exchanged excited looks, goofy grins on their faces. His voice faded to a murmur. “And she kissed my cheek when I left and I don’t know what exactly to say to her now,”

Their faces fell into something that resembled exasperation. JJ even went so far as to shake her head, placing a hand on her forehead. 

“Spence, I honestly don’t know how you can be so smart and so clueless at the same time,” Emily said, laughing to herself.

He threw his arms up in the air in desperation. “That doesn’t exactly help me.”

He looked to JJ for guidance. JJ shook her head again, laughing.

"I'm going to let Garcia take the lead on this one," she said, turning back to the open files on the briefing table.

That night, unable to sleep, Spencer sat up in bed staring at his phone - something that had become somewhat of a ritual for him. Jemma’s latest book,  _ Station Eleven,  _ was tossed carelessly on the bed beside him. He had attempted to read it, but his mind was spinning and he found himself reading the same page over and over again. Forcing himself to act without overthinking - he could still hear Garcia berating him about it - he started typing.

SR: How are things back at home?  _ What am I doing? _

She responded within minutes.

JH: Things are pretty quiet! Just me, Bruno, and a good book as usual. How is California?

She had attached a picture. She was curled up in bed, an open book in her lap and Bruno snuggled up next to her. He tilted his head back until it hit the wall behind it, smiling at her response. When he went back to type it was a lot easier to compose his thoughts.

* * *

_ Somewhere over Kansas _

The case had been a strange one, a case none of the team had ever seen before. Like something out of Mary Shelly’s  _ Frankenstein _ , the unsub had kidnapped young boys and harvested various body parts in a twisted attempt to bring back his lost little brother. They had risked life and limb to save the last boy he had taken, heading directly into a tornado. It was terrifying and it was a little exhilarating. Spencer could almost understand why some became storm chasers. It was this lingering exhilaration that gave him the courage to call her.

“Hey you,” she answered after two rings. Spencer couldn’t stop the smile that grew across his lips.

“Hey,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. He cleared his throat and tried again, “We just left Kansas and I - uh - I wanted to hear your voice.”

She laughed and he could practically picture her smile. 

“I was actually just thinking of you,” she said. Spencer’s heart lifted. “Have you started the book yet?”

He smiled, looking down at the book in his lap. He was using his finger as a bookmark, but cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear to pull the wrinkled Starbucks receipt out from safe keeping at the back of the book and tucked it into his place. He set the book next to him, slouching further into his chair. Across the plane, he made eye contact with JJ who was also on the phone. She smiled at him, nodding in solidarity for wanting to hear the voices of their loved ones.

“I just did,” he murmured, “You picked another good one.”

“I know I did,” she said, sounding smug, “Let me guess, you’ve already read it three times, Mr. 20,000 Words.”

He laughed. He could see Morgan look up at the sound, when he saw the phone in Spencer’s hand he smirked.

“That’s Dr. 20,000 Words to you,” he said, surprising himself. He heard her chuckle a few times and suddenly he wanted to know everything about her. “What are you up to?”

“Oh, just making dinner,” she said, sounding a little muffled as he assumed she multitasked, “Garcia forwarded me Rossi’s recipe for Italian Baked Meatballs. This is my first attempt and it’s going alright so far.”

“Does Rossi know you’re attempting his recipe?” he said, eyeing the man in question deep in conversation with Hotch across the plane. 

She chuckled again. “Don’t tell him she snagged his recipe for me. I want to get it perfect before he’s aware of Garcia’s thievery.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“Good,” she paused and he thought he could hear the sounds of drawers opening and closing as she looked for various utensils necessary for her recipe, “Would - uh - would you like to be my taste tester? Obviously not tonight, but I can tell I’ll need to try the recipe a couple of times before I get it perfect.”

If driving towards a tornado had given him an ounce of exhilaration, her question felt like leaping directly into one. His thoughts were swirling at 100 miles per hour as he sputtered for words.

“Dinner? At your place?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to -,” she said quickly, sounding panicked, “I just thought you’d like some kind of home cooked meal after all your cases -,”

“Yes,” he said, sitting up so quickly Hotch, Emily, and Rossi looked up at him in alarm. He cleared his throat and turned towards the window away from them. “I mean, yeah, that sounds great.”

He could practically hear her beaming. He wished he could be in the kitchen with her right now to see it in person.

“Great! We’ll coordinate a date then,” she said, “Until then, stay safe, Dr. 20,000 Words.”

She ended the call and he looked down at the book next to him, the elated feeling still in his chest. JJ, also off of her call, made her way across the cabin towards him, but she didn’t stop. Before she passed by on the way to the drinks station, she placed a hand on Spencer’s shoulder and squeezed. They shared smiles and she slipped away leaving Spencer to his thoughts.

* * *

Weeks passed and our dinner date continued to be postponed. First it was a case involving the anniversary of a kidnapping. The case itself was in Virginia, but closely involved Penelope and a support group she hosted. Spencer sent me several messages apologizing for having to postpone, but I waved them away. I was never going to be the type of person who made him choose between me and his BAU family, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed.

Despite the distance we had slipped into a sort of a routine. Every evening, usually later than I cared to admit, he’d call me just to unload the various stressors of his day. Once he had talked himself out he switched to asking questions about me - my day, the books I was reading, what I had seen on the walks I had taken with Bruno, if I had talked to my family recently and how they were doing. At first it took me by surprise, but I enjoyed telling him more about myself. We had continued our strange dance where we skirted around the topic of what exactly we were, but for the time being - as work kept him at arm's length - I was forced to be content with our phone calls.

* * *

_ Somerville Academy _

Hotch and JJ had left for the Medical Examiner’s Office about twenty minutes ago. Emily, Morgan, and Rossi had left shortly after to follow up on some leads with the Colonel. That left Spencer and Garcia by themselves in a cramped conference room. Penelope was deep in code, trying to eke out every tiny detail of the victim’s lives and Spencer was trying his best to make connections in his brain. They hadn’t said much since the team left, aside from bouncing ideas off of each other. 

He had placed his phone face up between them on the table in front of them in case the team called, but when the screen lit up and buzzed it was Jemma’s name that flashed at the top. She had sent a text message and the screen went dark within a few seconds, but Garcia had already zeroed in on it.

“Is that Jemma?” she asked, though it was obvious she already knew the answer.

“Yep,” Spencer said, simply. He turned back to the folders in his lap hoping that would be the end of it, but knowing it wouldn’t be. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Garcia staring at him, practically vibrating with anticipation.

“ _ And _ ?”

“And what?”

“Boy Genius, are you really going to insult me and pretend like your big, gorgeous brain doesn’t know exactly what I’m asking about?”

Spencer sighed, folding the file he had been examining and turning to look at the technical analyst. “What do you want to know?”

Garcia grinned and turned bodily in her chair so her knees were pressed against his thigh.

“How’s it going? Are you guys texting all the time? She got Dr. Technophobe to use  _ technology _ ? Have you gone on another date yet? Have you kissed yet? Oh, God, please tell me you’ve  _ kissed her _ by now.”

Spencer held up his hands, pleading with her to stop.

“Garcia -,” She stopped babbling, shrinking back as he slightly raised his voice over hers. “It’s going well. We actually talk a lot, usually on the phone. No, we have not gone on another date and I am not going into that much detail about my relationship with Jemma.”

Her face shifted into a mischievous smirk, “Your  _ relationship _ , huh?”

Spencer rolled his eyes and opened the file in his lap again. “That’s all you got out of that?”

She didn’t turn back to her computer. Instead she examined him a few more moments.

“Wait a minute,” she said slowly, “There’s more to this. Spill it, Lover Boy.”

He looked up from the file again, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at Garcia. 

“Ok, fine. She invited me to dinner,” Garcia’s face split into a wider grin, “She’s making that recipe you stole from Rossi and wants me to test it. I told her yes, but we’ve been so busy with cases I keep having to cancel on her.”

Penelope’s face fell as Spencer picked up his phone to examine the message Jemma had sent him. 

“Hey,” she said, placing her hand on his shoulder, “I’m sure she understands. You’re a profiler, your job pulls you away from your friends and family at a moment’s notice.”

He nodded, not looking up at her. “Yeah, but I just worry one day she won’t be as ok with it as she is now. What if she meets some other guy who’s able to be there when she asks?”

“Reid,” she said, shaking his shoulder a little. He looked up at her. “She likes you  _ a lot _ . Trust me. We will solve this case and go home and you will make your date with her. You will get to try her balls - wait, that didn’t come out right.”

Spencer smiled at her and nodded once. She looked like she wanted to say more, but his phone buzzed again and when he looked down it wasn’t Jemma, but Hotch’s name across the top of the screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! This week has been probably one of the strangest, most stressful weeks to date so I hope that this chapter brings some comfort to you if you need it. I have recently rediscovered One Direction and how attractive Harry Styles is so my week, on top of everything else, has been a whirlwind. If you're a Styles fan maybe keep an eye on this account because writing fanfiction is how I handle my obsessions. 
> 
> But for right now Spencer Reid is the only obsession that matters. I think you're going to like the next few chapters. Let me know what you think!


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Spencer Reid's 30th birthday and Penelope is determined that Jenna will be there to celebrate with the team...

“Jemma! Slayer of the Hearts of the Young and the Genius!” Penelope’s voice was loud even over the phone. Matt, scanning new inventory next to me, gave me a weird look which I shrugged away.

“Hi Penelope, what’s up?”

She gave an excited squeal which had me pulling my phone away from my ear. Matt gave me another look and I sheepishly stepped away from the counter, hiding in the back office.

“I’m so happy I got you!” she chirped. I could hear the clicking sounds of her fingernails on the keyboard, probably multitasking for the team. “Listen, are you free later this evening?”

I racked my brains for a moment, knowing full well my only “plans” were curling up on my couch with Bruno and the latest book I had borrowed. I nodded even though Garcia couldn’t see it.

“Yeah, I get off work at eight tonight.” 

She squealed again and I couldn’t help but laugh. “That is  _ perfect _ . Come to the BAU right after you get off work. I’ll have a guest pass ready for you at the front desk. Just tell them Penelope sent you!”

“Ok,” I said, chuckling, “Why exactly am I coming to the BAU? Aside from seeing your beautiful face of course.”

“Oh stop it. I see why the Boy Wonder likes you so much,” I felt my cheeks begin to burn. “It’s actually because of him I’m inviting you!”

“Is something wrong with Spence?”

“Oh no, no, no!” She was quick to respond and I could almost see the crazy hand gestures she was inevitably doing, “We may have been a terrible family and let the Good Doctor’s birthday slip by without any celebration. I’ve placed myself in charge of the Party Planning Committee while the team is in San Francisco so we can surprise him when they get back later tonight.”

“It’s his birthday?” I said, dumbly.

“Well, it was last week,” Garcia said apologetically, “Like I said, we are righting our wrongs and showing our love for the Birthday Boy now. So I’ll see you a little after six?”

“Of course, yeah, I’ll be there!” I spluttered, my mind reeling.  _ I gotta find a book stat. _

“Great! The Supreme Ruler of all things Party and Tech bids you adieu!” And then she was gone.

I stumbled out of the back office, mentally rattling off the books I knew off in my mind. What does one get a genius for his birthday? Matt, still scanning books at the register, turned at the sound of my footsteps.

“What was that about?” He asked.

“I gotta find a birthday present for Spence,” I muttered, “That was Penelope Garcia, his team’s Technical Analyst, and she’s organizing a surprise birthday party for him in the BAU.”

His eyebrows lifted, threatening to disappear into his hairline. “Well let’s find you a book that will blow his socks off,” He dropped what he was holding and hurried off towards the stacks. He paused before he turned down the Classics aisle and winked at me, “Or, at the very least, a book that will blow his clothes off.”

I rolled my eyes, “That isn’t even a good line!” I exclaimed, before following behind him.

* * *

The building was simply intimidating. I had been standing in front of the entrance for a solid five minutes gazing up at the scary looking building looming above me. The sky had begun to darken, but the place was still abuzz with people. Men and women all dressed in the stereotypical power suit and briefcase I had come to associate with FBI agents, shouldered past me as they made their way into the building to begin their shift or pushed past as they made their way home for the evening. I took a deep breath, smoothed the wrinkles on my shirt, pulled my black and white striped cardigan closer to me, and stepped inside.

When I made it to the Behavioral Analysis Unit Floor - after minimal hassle from the overworked looking security guard - I could feel my heart beating in my throat. Penelope was waiting for me as soon as the elevator doors pinged open and pulled me into a tight hug the moment she saw me.

“Jemma!” She explained, tottering forward on her sky high heels. She pulled away from the hug and looped her arm through mine as she had when we had first met all those months ago. “The team is going to be here any second. Let’s get you into the briefing room before he sees you.”

I pulled a hastily wrapped present out of my bag and held it up to her. “Where do you want my gift?” I said, feeling like I was on the verge of a panic attack. This would be the first time I had seen Spencer in person since I had handed him  _ Station Eleven _ and sent him on his way with a kiss on the cheek.

“Keep it, darling,” she said, hustling me faster than I thought possible in shoes as tall as hers.

We barreled through the glass doors, passing pods of cubicles I could barely take in. One of those must be his, but I couldn’t focus long enough to guess which one. Penelope steered me up some stairs and past some closed offices before she pushed open a door at the end of the walkway. It opened into a round briefing room with a circular table and a tv screen on the wall. She had obviously been busy while the team was on their flight back to Virginia. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY SPENCER” was strung across the tv and two clumps of balloons bracketed each side of the sign. The table was laden with all kinds of goodies. There was a cake - big enough to feed the team at least - and two trays of cupcakes. I guessed the extra cupcakes were for the other agents not within their little family. I found the thoughtfulness oddly touching. 

“They’re here!” she exclaimed, glancing down at her phone. She looked back up at me, clearly in a panic. “I will be right back with some of the team. Emily is going to distract Reid. You stay away from those windows. I don’t want to give away the surprise!”

She was gone before I could even open my mouth to respond. Doing my best to keep out of the line of sight, I peered around one of the windows to watch the team arrive. They arrived in a clump, Hotch and Rossi peeling off first to head up the stairs and into the closed offices Penelope and I had practically sprinted by earlier. They passed Penelope, pausing momentarily as she whispered something to them. When their eyes darted towards the room she had left me in I realized she was briefing them on their next assignment. The rest of the team had settled back in their respective cubicles - Morgan and JJ laughing at something I couldn’t hear. Emily placed her bag in her chair and took a breath before looking around the room. I could swear I saw her wink quickly at Penelope before she strode back toward the glass doors.

My breath caught. After so long away from him, seeing Spencer in the flesh took me by surprise. He was moving slowly toward a cubicle close to the briefing room, but Emily caught him before he could put his bag down and he redirected his trajectory, heading instead toward the coffee station with Emily at his side. She was good, strategically placing herself where she was facing the briefing room and his back was to the windows. I could see his hair was starting to grow out, the curls more pronounced at the base of his neck. My fingers itched. I wanted to run my hands through that hair -.

“Well if it isn’t Jemma Hamilton!” A loud voice exclaimed before I was caught up in another tight hug.

“Derek, shh!” Penelope hissed, frantically gesturing him and the rest of the team into the conference room and darting looks behind her before she shut the door, “You’re going to spoil the surprise!”

“Hi Derek,” I laughed, fully wrapping my arms around him. “Hi everyone!”

They took turns greeting me, JJ wrapping me in another hug that was surprisingly strong for how small she was. Hotch extended his hand out for me to shake, inquiring how things had been since I had seen him last. Rossi surprised me most of all, planting two quick kisses on my cheeks.

“How has the meatball recipe been coming?” He asked, slyly. I glanced quickly at Penelope who refused to make eye contact.

“Penelope gave it to me,” I said quickly and she finally glared at me, her mouth open in an indignant ‘o.’

Rossi laughed, “I know it's in good hands. Once you’ve mastered it you’ll have to let me know and I’ll let you try a more difficult dish.”

The team fell into quiet discussion, alternating between asking me about the bookstore and discussing the case they had just returned from. I did my best to contribute, but every cell in my body was incredibly aware of the tall genius just a few feet away from me, still in deep conversation with Emily.

“Everyone quiet!” Penelope finally hissed again, “He’s coming!”

We all fell silent and I prayed that no one could hear my heart pounding against my ribcage. 

“And I realized, I don’t know, there’s just something incredibly right about being here, with you guys,” I heard him say, his voice muffled through the door.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Emily replied, a hint of laughter in her voice, “Otherwise this would have been really awkward.”

“What would have been really awkward?”

The door swung open, Emily’s hand on the door handle. Penelope jumped from behind Morgan.

“Surprise!” she exclaimed and the rest of the team followed a split second behind. I couldn’t seem to make my vocal cords work.

His smile was blinding. I knew I had missed seeing it, but I didn’t realize how much until that moment. His eyes were crinkled to the point where they were almost closed and I could swear I saw a small glimmer of a tear. He gazed around the room at his team, at a loss for words, and then his gaze slid to me. For a second that blinding smile slid off his face and he looked completely dumbstruck. Then it was back in full force and he was across the room in seconds, pulling me into his arms, burying his face in my shoulder, and practically lifting me off the ground.

“Well, hello to you too,” I heard Morgan snark followed by a sound that was most likely Penelope smacking him on the shoulder.

“Happy Birthday, Spence,” I murmured into his neck.

“You’re here,” he said simply, like he still didn’t believe it, “How are you here?”

I laughed, running my fingers through the loose curls at the nape of his neck, “How do you think?”

There was a beat of silence and then we both responded at the same time, “Penelope.”

He pulled back, brown eyes meeting mine. It looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t quite know the words. I became suddenly aware that we weren’t the only two in the room and forced myself to look away from him. 

Penelope had wrapped one arm around Morgan’s middle, laying her head on his shoulder. He had an arm around her shoulders, smirking at Spence. JJ and Emily were exchanging a knowing look and JJ gave me a wink when she caught me blushing. Hotch had a small smile on his lips, his phone already out as he checked any messages he may have missed while they were gone. Rossi, obviously not one for public displays of affection, had instead decided to examine the cake on the table.

“So are we going to serve this cake, or what?” he said and the team erupted in laughter.

Penelope hurried off to find a knife and serving utensil, loudly berating herself as she left. Morgan followed closely behind begging her to breathe. Hotch slipped out quietly wishing Spencer a happy birthday and requesting we come get him when the cake was served. JJ stepped forward to wish him a happy birthday and pulled him into conversation. Emily rounded the table towards me. She wrapped me in another hug, rubbing my back slightly.

“Welcome to the BAU,” she said, pulling back to look at me, “I’m glad you were able to make it. Reid is usually pretty quiet about his personal life, but even we could tell he was anxious to get back to see you.”

I snuck a glance back at him. He was still deep in conversation with JJ, but I saw him turn slightly and our eyes met. I looked away, blushing. Emily chuckled, punching my arm lightly.

“You know he was worried that he hadn’t done anything worthwhile with his life now that he’s thirty, and I kept telling him that he does so much good every day just by being here at the BAU, but I think you help him see the good he does outside of this office.”

I smiled shyly at her. “I don’t know how I help, but I’m glad I do,” I looked down at my hands, twisting my fingers, “I know my life has been much more exciting since I met him.”

She smiled as Penelope burst back into the room brandishing a knife in one hand and a serving fork in the other.

“Birthday Boy does the honors!” she called, handing the utensils over to him. We all gathered around the table, Hotch even returning to watch the spectacle, and Spencer began dealing out the small pieces of cake.

I hung back as he started handing out plates, wanting the returning team to get their share first. One by one the team filed out of the room, wishing Spencer another happy birthday before heading back down to their cubicles to settle down to paperwork. I watched them from the window, shaking my head at their work ethic, before I realized Spencer had wandered back over to me, extra plate in hand.

“Cake?” he asked.

I took it with a smile and glanced back over to the bullpen. “You are all workaholics, aren’t you?”

He followed my gaze and laughed a little. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. We don’t know when to go home.”

We ate in silence for a few moments. I could feel him looking at me, his brown eyes burning my cheeks. Or maybe that was just my blush. I slowly lifted my eyes to meet his.

“Do you - uh - do you want to see my desk?” he asked, looking awkward.

I nodded, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. His slow, sweet smile was worth it. He headed out the door, with me following closely behind. As we meandered down the walkway towards the stairs he began talking - the history of the building, the history of the program, notable agents throughout the years including Rossi and a man named Gideon. I could tell he was just as excited to see me as I was to see him and that excitement manifested in a constant stream of consciousness. When we made it to his cubicle - passing Emily, head down already hard at work on paperwork - he sat down in his office chair and spread his arms, showcasing his space.

“Well, here we are,” he offered. 

I looked around. There were a handful of photos on the half walls of his cubicle - a couple of him and a woman I guessed was his mother, one of a squishy looking baby he identified as his godson, Henry, and several older photos of him and his team from cases long past. I pointed out his slicked back hair in one and the horn-rimmed glasses in another, snickering.

“Hey, I’m 30 now,” he said semi-defensively, “these were looks from another time.”

“I don’t know,” I said, examining one of the photos closely, “Those glasses are kinda cute.”

I heard Emily scoff a little, but when I looked back she was still nose down in her paperwork. Spencer was lightly blushing, a small smile on his lips when I turned back.

“Maybe I’ll try to find them for you,” he murmured.  _ Was he flirting? _ He had that look on his face like he was in unknown territory.

I leaned against his desk, my left leg brushing against his right. I could swear I felt him turn the chair a fraction of an inch so that he pressed more solidly into me. Though it was nothing like the hug we had had in the briefing room the small amount of physical contact set all my nerve endings on fire.

“So it’s probably a little late for tonight,” I started, pretending to examine my fingers, but in reality unable to pull my gaze away from where our bodies touched, “But do you still want to come have dinner at some point?”

I heard Emily go still and tried to ignore her. The silence of the building was almost deafening. Had everyone and everything gone silent or was the roaring of the blood in my ears just drowning everything else out? Spencer cleared his throat and nodded slowly.

“Yeah, I’d still love to have dinner,” he said, sounding a little bit like he was being strangled. He cleared his throat again and adjusted in his seat a little. “But - um - tonight isn’t too late for me if it isn’t for you?”

Emily scoffed again, loud enough that both Spencer and I turned to her. Realizing she was being watched, she slowly raised her gaze to us, smiling awkwardly.

“Uh, I think that icing got stuck in my throat a little,” she put a hand to her throat and coughed a couple times as evidence. She audibly gulped and stood suddenly. “You know, I think I’m going to get some water.”

She turned quickly on her heel and headed toward the coffee station. We could only see the back of her head, but JJ and Derek - chatting pleasantly at Derek’s desk - caught a glance at her and, probably at her insistence, both stood to follow her.

Spencer sighed and I turned back to look at him. He caught my eye and smiled softly at me.

“I’m never going to hear the end of this,” he said, simply, shaking his head.

Something about the ridiculousness of the whole situation - my anxiety at seeing him in person again, seeing the office he worked in, and the fact that the man just invited himself to my house for dinner - became suddenly overwhelming. I began to laugh, the laugh catching and growing into something slightly uncontrollable. A few seconds later Spencer joined me, laughing hard. From the coffee station, JJ, Derek, and Emily all looked like we had lost it. Maybe we had. I couldn’t seem to care.

I took a couple deep breaths, steadying myself. As I regained control of my senses, I took a moment to watch him, still slightly hiccupping with laughter. His eyes had shut, his head tipped back as he laughed. As he tried to catch his breath, he leaned forward slightly, running one long fingered hand through his curly hair. I followed the movement, my breath catching, the laughter finally quieting in my lungs. Finally, his laughter calmed and he opened those brown eyes to look up at me. Slowly his smile faded from a wide grin to something a little more intimate; that soft, slow smile he seemed to reserve only for me. I realized suddenly I was watching him with my mouth slightly open. I closed it, clearing my throat.

“I don’t think it’s too late for dinner,” I murmured.

I could see him swallow and he nodded, looking around at his desk. He seemed to be thinking hard before he nodded again and pushed himself up from the chair. He picked his bag up from the floor and looked back at me, suddenly nervous.

“Should we go now?” he asked, voice barely higher than a murmur.

My body was livewire again. My mouth felt dry and my legs were suddenly so shaky I wasn’t sure I would be able to walk out of this office. I licked my lips, trying to ignore the way he watched me, and nodded. 

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! It has been a mental health week from hell for me so posting for all of you lovely readers is a nice sunbeam in an otherwise kinda grey week. I hope everyone else has been doing a little bit better than me and, if not, know that I am in the same boat as you hopefully rowing to a better tomorrow. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter - this was one of my favorite chapters to write. Birthday Spence deserves the world. Honestly, All The Time Spence deserves the world, but CM writers do not agree. 
> 
> Have a great week and I will see you lovely readers next Friday!


	10. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma makes Spencer a late birthday dinner...

“Welcome to my humble abode,” I exclaimed as I unlocked my front door and cringing inwardly at myself. It swung inwards and I gestured him inside, praying I had left it somewhat clean when I had left for work this morning.

Bruno came hurtling down the stairs, his collar jingling. Bypassing me completely, he sprinted towards Spencer who crouched and caught the Yorkie mid-air. He straightened, snuggling the dog close to his chest. I forced myself to turn away from the spectacle as the risk of throwing myself at him and knocking him to the ground became too great. 

“I think I have all the required ingredients,” I called, turning the corner into the small kitchen, “Do you want anything to drink? I have wine.”

I could hear him following behind me, but I made myself keep my back to him, choosing to examine the contents of my fridge as if I had never seen them before. It wasn’t until I felt Bruno’s wet, little nose against my ankle that I dared a glance back at him. 

“I’ll take some water,” he said, stepping into the kitchen behind me, “Is there anything I can do to help you get dinner ready?”

I pulled two glasses out of my cabinet and filled them with water from the sink. I handed one to him, trying to ignore the electricity as our fingers briefly overlapped. I shook my head, turning back to the fridge.

“I’ve got it! Besides,” I tossed a glance over my shoulder at him, smiling, “It’s your birthday. I can’t let the Birthday Boy make his own dinner.”

I was rewarded with a small blush as he settled into a chair at my cramped dining room table. He fiddled with the glass between his hands.

“Technically my birthday was last week so I’m not even the Birthday Boy anymore.”

I piled the ingredients on the counter, pulling up the recipe on my phone and waving a dismissive hand in his direction. “Haven’t you heard of a Birthday Month?”

I began to prep ingredients, holding my breath as I chopped the onions. Probably feeling as restless as I did, Spencer stood, bringing his water glass over to lean against the fridge next to me. He looked at me with a questioning look on his face.

“A Birthday Month?” he asked, chuckling.

I looked back up at him in surprise. “You didn’t have a Birthday Month?” When he shook his head, bemused, I laughed. “You were probably a better kid than I was. I milked my birthday for all it was worth. From March 1st to March 31st everything I did or wanted to do was because it was my birthday. I was a monster during my Birthday Week.”

I heard him chuckle and snuck a glance at him. He had tipped his head back against the fridge to laugh. This was probably the most relaxed I had seen him in a long time. The purple bags were still under his eyes, but they didn’t look quite as pronounced as they had the last time I saw him. I looked back towards the oven, currently preheating, to examine the time.  _ 9:30. A little late for dinner. _

Spencer turned, leaning his shoulder against the door of the fridge, fully turning his gaze to me. I busied myself with the ingredients on the stove.

“You know, according to a public database of births, birthdays in the United States are pretty evenly distributed for the most part, but there tend to be more births in September and October and the least common birthdays tend to fall around public holidays, such as Christmas, New Year’s Day, and fixed-date holidays such as July 4th.” He took a quick sip of his water. “So I suppose that makes you a unique birth.”

We exchanged a glance before dissolving into laughter.

“I suppose you could say that,” I said, in between bursts of giggles, “But I wouldn’t count yourself out quite yet, Doc. I’d say you’re pretty unique too.”

He didn’t respond, instead choosing to gaze at me, a small smile playing on his lips. I could see his eyes darting around my face, taking it all in as though he were taking inventory. His fingers were flexing on the glass in his hand. I turned back to the stove, hiding my flushing face.

“How was your last case?” I asked finally, daring to look back at him.

We fell into a comfortable conversation - first regarding his trip to California, which then dissolved into our favorite trips we had ever taken (unsurprisingly, with his work schedule, Spencer hadn’t left the country, let alone the  _ state _ for anything other than work purposes in quite some time). Finally, I dumped the ingredients into a baking dish.

“Ok, so now we have to let this bake for about 45 minutes,” I said, placing the dish in the heated oven and planting my oven-mitted hands on my hips.

Moving as one, we both turned towards the clock on the microwave. At this rate dinner wouldn’t be served until at least 11pm. I turned back to him sheepishly.

“Sorry it’s going to be so late,” I apologized.

He shrugged. “I’m used to eating late. Besides, I’m still pretty full on cake. What about you?”

I wasn’t, but I was also willing to wait out this meatball dish if it meant spending more time with Spencer. I gestured towards the other doorway that led into a small living room space.

“We can go watch a movie or something in there while the meatballs cook,” I said, trying to calm my pounding heart. 

Spencer nodded and I followed him into the room. He began heading towards the couch, but spied my record player on the short bookcase by the door and changed direction, dropping to a crouch to examine my extensive record collection.

“You have a great selection,” he said, pulling out a tattered, but well loved Four Freshmen album. Gingerly, he pulled the record out of its sleeve, balancing the disk on his fingertips and placing it lightly on the record player. He seemed to come to himself as the first few notes began to play and turned sheepishly towards me. “Sorry.”

I waved away his apology, smiling. “Don’t worry about it. The Four Freshmen are one of my favorite jazz bands. My grandfather is actually the reason I have most of their discography. He lives in New York and likes to send me records every now and then. There’s just something different about listening to music on a record player as opposed to a phone or a wireless speaker.”

His face lit up. “I think the same thing!” He exclaimed. Slowly, we moved around the couch, settling next to each other on the cushions, “Garcia calls me a technophobe. She made me upgrade my cell phone just last month, but I barely use it.”

I ducked my head, smiling into my glass. “Then I’m flattered you’re willing to use it to talk to me all the time.”

He laughed awkwardly, blush spreading across his cheeks. “Well, you’re different. I want to talk to you.”

We looked up at each other at the same time, frozen as our eyes met. Behind us the Four Freshmen began crooning some slow love song that set my heart racing. I licked my lips and glanced down at his glass.

“Do you want something else to drink?” I croaked, “Like I said I have wine, but I could probably find a beer if you want that.”

He shook his head, placing the empty glass on the table in front of him. Draining my glass, I did the same before turning back to him.

“I don’t drink,” he said simply, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh,” I replied, feeling suddenly like the world’s biggest idiot, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean -.”

He shook his head, eyes darting to mine and away. “Don’t be. You wouldn’t have known.”

He took a deep breath as though he were preparing himself and turned to face me, pulling one long leg onto the couch. I mirrored him, pulling my legs underneath me and facing him fully.

“Jemma, I want to tell you something about me,” he started, looking unsure. “I didn’t want to continue -  _ this _ \- without you knowing.”

He stopped, chewing his lip. I reached forward, placing my hand on his arm. I didn’t say anything, simply choosing to smile in encouragement. He gazed at me, searching my face for any sign that I would pull away. Not finding anything, he smiled and placed his hand over mine, shifting my hand from his arm so he could lace his fingers through mine fully. My breath caught in my throat.

“Several years ago - at least six or seven now - my team flew to Georgia to investigate a serial killer with multiple personalities. We had narrowed down the suspects and JJ and I were sent to follow up on a lead with a man named Tobias Henkel.” He closed his eyes as if the name physically wounded him, but took a breath and started again. “When he realized who we were, Tobias ran and I followed, leaving JJ behind. Thankfully she was ok, but Tobias ambushed me. He knocked me out and took me captive. I don’t know how long exactly he tortured me, but he alternated between three different personalities - himself, his father, and the archangel Rafael.”

I could feel his hands shaking below mine. I tightened my hold, pulling his hand towards me. I refused to look away, wanting to listen fully to the story no matter how difficult it was turning out to be. Spencer’s voice shook as he began to speak again.

“When he was lucid, Tobias attempted to help me manage the torture his father was inflicting by injecting me with Dilaudid, an opioid used to treat moderate to severe pain,” he took another shaky breath, “Once after he injected me, I coded. Tobias managed to bring me back, but for a few short minutes I was legally dead.”

I felt a tear slip onto my cheek. Spencer’s eyes were swimming. Every muscle in my body was screaming to pull him to me and never let him go. Behind us, the record finished its last song and the player switched off, filling the room with silence.

“The team was able to find me and save me before Tobias killed me, but I snuck the extra bottles of Dilaudid from his pocket. For months after my kidnapping I struggled with a drug addiction,” he pulled his hand from mine so he could dig into his pocket to pull out his wallet and, from that, a shiny gold coin, “I’ve been clean for years now, but occasionally I still have that itch. I just wanted you to know.”

He fell silent and I took a moment to wipe the tears from my cheeks. He spun the gold coin in between his fingers a few times, no longer able to look at me.

“Thank you for telling me,” I murmured, reaching out to him and placing a hand on his cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning into my palm, “Spence, you are possibly the bravest person I know. I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through, but I will always be here for you if that itch becomes overwhelming.”

He looked back up at me, his eyes brimming with tears again. Without another word, I finally gathered him into my arms, tipping him into me. His arms wrapped tightly around my back. I could feel his fingers spreading up my shoulder blades. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, taking a couple of deep breaths to steady himself. I closed my eyes tightly as a couple more tears slipped onto my cheeks. We remained in there for a few minutes until my phone began to buzz. The timer.

He pulled back and I wiped more tears off my cheeks, laughing awkwardly. I stood, gathering our glasses to my chest and making my way back into the kitchen to serve our food. Instead of following, he remained on the couch collecting himself. It wasn’t until I had plated two hearty portions of the meatballs and put the leftovers in the fridge for later that I remembered my gift, still wrapped in my bag. I pulled it out and stuffed it under my arm, carrying both plates back to the living room. 

“Bon Appetit,” I said, placing the plate in front of him. 

Composed again, he smiled at me, his eyes still slightly red. He took a quick bite of the meatballs and nodded vigorously at me.

“This is delicious,” he said, taking another bigger bite, “Rossi would be proud.”

I beamed at him, taking a bite of my own. It was definitely better than my first three attempts. Before I settled back down, I flipped the record and the music helped lift the remaining melancholy from the room. We ate in comfortable silence for a moment, smiling quietly at each other. He placed his empty plate on the coffee table before me, obviously used to eating on the run. Following his lead, I put my plate down as well, pulling my legs back under me, and reached behind me for the shoddily wrapped present.

“For you,” I said, simply, “I meant to give it to you at the office, but Penelope is a whirlwind and I kind of got caught up in it.”

He looked down at the drooping bow, a surprised look on his face. When he looked up at me a boyish grin was growing on his lips.

“You got me a present?”

I shrugged. “Of course. It’s Birthday Month.”

He shook his head at me and began to tear into the wrapping. When it came away from the cover he let out a bark of laughter, unable to control himself. Matt and I had combed through the store for what felt like hours trying to find the perfect book. After Matt had suggested all three of the 50 Shades of Gray books I had found it lurking behind one of the newer editions in the Classics section. 

“I know I said it was a terrible book,” I said, tapping the embossed cover, “But you originally came into the store asking for Wuthering Heights and I figured I should finally help you with that request.” 

He ran a finger over the cover, a small smile on his lips. He flipped the cover open to reveal the sticky note I had placed inside. He turned to me, one eyebrow quirked.

“I wanted to leave you a birthday message, but I couldn’t bring myself to deface the book with my handwriting.”

He nodded as though my reasoning was sound and turned back to my note.

“‘To Spence -’,” he read, “‘Whatever our souls are made of, yours and mine are the same.’”

I scrunched my face up, suddenly feeling awkward. I could feel him stiffen on the couch next to me. He turned slowly to face me, his eyes wide.

“I wrote that when I thought you would open it on your own,” I started, rambling as my anxiety skyrocketed, “I didn’t expect to be there when you read it. In fact I don’t really know why I brought the gift over right now, because of course you were going to read it right now. It’s just a quote from the book, but you probably know tha-,”

It was sudden, so sudden I wasn’t sure exactly when he had moved. Suddenly his hands were cradling my face, firm yet gentle, and then he was kissing me. It took me a few seconds before I realized it was happening and Spencer began to pull away, obviously thinking he had misread the months of tension and flirtation. I wrapped my hands around his neck, lacing my fingertips through the curls at the nape of his neck, pulling his lips back to mine, kissing him deep. His hands fell from my face to my shoulders and down to my hips where he flexed his fingers against my hip bones. He pulled away to catch a breath and I trailed my lips down his throat, enjoying the quiet sighs and sounds he made. His fingers tightened on my waist and he pulled me closer, bringing me to my knees where I towered above him.

We pulled slowly away, my hands still buried in his hair, his hands warm on my back. His head was tipped back towards mine as he slowly opened his eyes to gaze at me. I planted a couple slow, sweet kisses on his lips, happy to just have the chance. The hint of something  _ more _ sent electric shocks singing through my body and I had just started to let myself sink back into him when Bruno began to whine.

I groaned, pulling away to see Bruno staring at me from the front entryway. It was late and he hadn’t been outside in awhile.

“Jem?” Spencer whispered. I looked back down at him and the sight of his swollen lips and heavy-lidded eyes took all my willpower to detangle myself from him.

“The perils of being a Dog Mom,” I sighed, heaving myself off of the couch. At the door, Bruno began to spin in fast circles, “I’ll be right back.”

I hooked Bruno up to his leash, sneaking a glance at Spencer before the door shut. He was in the same position, looking thoroughly disheveled, his hair an utter mess. I caught my favorite slow, sweet smile before I was outside.

I stood shivering slightly in the cool air as Bruno sniffed around the darkened yard. I couldn’t help the smile that crossed my lips as I remembered the feeling of his on mine and I glanced back at the lit window where he waited for me. I took a few deep breaths of the cool air attempting to force my fevered brain to come up with a game plan.  _ What happens now? Would it be too forward if I took him upstairs into my bed? Should we talk about what exactly this is? Is it bad that I just want to keep kissing him? _

Bruno finished his business, turning and hopping back up the stairs, his small pink tongue out. I scowled at him.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” I sneered, only slightly joking.

He looked up at me, head slightly cocked, before darting back into the house after he had been unhooked. I tracked him up the stairs before turning back to the living room.

“Sorry about that, Spence,” I murmured, before stopping in my tracks.

He had slumped further down, stretching his legs out on the couch. His breathing was slow and even, eyes closed and face serene though his lips were still slightly swollen. I smiled a little at the sight of his mismatched socks and went in search of a blanket. When I had dug one out of my bedroom closet, I returned tucking myself gently next to him, pulling the blanket over us both. In his sleep he rotated to face me, throwing his arm across my hip and pulling me tighter to him. I took a deep breath, the scent of old books and lavender mixed with the heavy scent of sleep. My eyelids were closing before I had barely settled in.

“Good night, Spence,” I murmured, pressing a light kiss to his neck. He murmured quietly in response, tightening his hold on me.

“Night, Jem,” he whispered before his breath evened back out and we both slipped into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooo...happy Friday everyone!


	11. Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Jemma and Spencer's first kiss.

Spencer was aware of three things when he opened his eyes the next morning: one, this was the most well rested he had felt in a _long_ time; two, his bed was not as comfy as it usually was; and three, his back _ached_ . He opened his eyes and froze when he realized he was not in his own apartment. The night before came to him slowly and then all at once - birthday celebration at the office, dinner at Jemma’s, and then.. _and then_. 

She was tucked against him, slightly underneath his arm as the couch was almost too small to fit two fully grown adults. In her sleep she had curled one hand into his sweater, her fingers twisting the material. Slowly, with shaky fingers, he reached up to run his free hand through her short, blond curls. She smiled slightly in her sleep, wiggling closer to him. Her warm breath puffed against his neck and sent shivers down his spine. He watched her for a moment, feeling completely overwhelmed with how he had gotten here. His back gave another twinge of protest.

“Jem,” he whispered, hating himself for having to wake her. She didn’t immediately respond, snuggling her face harder into his shoulder. He tried again, “Jem?”

This time she groaned, “Hmm?” 

“Where’s your bathroom?” he asked, trying to detangle himself without disturbing her further. She wasn’t fully awake yet, maybe he could get up without waking her completely.

She groaned again and lifted one heavy arm to point towards the stairs. “Upstairs. Connected to bedroom.”

He pulled his arm slowly from beneath her. They performed a strange dance where he pulled himself over and around her and she adjusted to the extra space he left behind. When he had pulled free he looked back at her. Her eyes were slightly cracked, watching him in a sleepy haze. He leaned back over her, tucking the blanket more firmly around her and placing a quick kiss to her forehead. She smiled lazily and her eyes shut.

He crept towards the stair, doing his best to stay quiet, though her floors seemed to have another idea in mind. He froze after a particularly loud creak, turning slowly to look back at Jemma, still tangled in the couch. When he was satisfied he hadn’t woken her, he continued, heading up the stairs into her bedroom.

He hesitated in the doorway, feeling like an intruder. In the semi-darkness of her room he could see her bed was still unmade - comforter a pile in the middle of the mattress. There was a dark circle in the middle of the clump of sheets that moved a little, giving Spencer a mild heart attack, but it was only Bruno looking up at him. Spencer could see a pile of books on the side table on the right side of the bed, so tall it leaned against the lampshade, a literary Tower of Pisa. He smiled to himself, taking a breath and turning towards the nearest door, assuming it to be the bathroom.

He flinched when he turned the fluorescents on, eyes not yet accustomed to the light. He used the restroom, and washed his hands, throwing some water on his face. He made eye contact with his reflection, noting that, for once, his eyes weren’t bloodshot from lack of sleep. He attempted to smooth his hair down, curly and wild, but it refused to be corralled, bouncing back every time he tried to smooth it down. Suddenly he vividly remembered feeling Jemma’s fingers combing through it, fingernails scratching pleasantly on his scalp, and his heart skipped a beat. He smiled at himself and the reflection returned it, looking self-satisfied and elated.

His clothes were wrinkled and disheveled. He pulled the sweater vest off of his head so he could loosen his tie, something he wished he had done before he had fallen asleep the night before. He did what he could to straighten the wrinkled shirt, fixing his uneven cuffs and rolling them further up his arms. He heard Bruno leap off the bed, his tiny body making a light thumping noise as he took off back down the stairs. From below, he could hear Jemma puttering around the kitchen. Apparently he wasn’t as smooth and quiet as he thought he was. A few minutes later he caught the delicious scent of freshly brewed coffee.

Suddenly his reflection didn’t look as confident as before. Sure, he had the courage to kiss her last night, but the sun was up now and things were different between them. He tried to rationalize - after all _she had kissed him back_ \- but he could feel his heart rate pick up as he shuffled back to the stairs, hands in his pocket and his sweater crumpled in a ball under his arm.

When he rounded the foot of the stairs she had her back to him, leaning against the kitchen counter. Bruno was eating noisily at the door to the kitchen and he paused to look back at Spencer, frozen at the foot of the stairs. Sensing him, Jemma turned and they made eye contact across the room. She had a mug of coffee in her hand and he could see another next to the coffee pot.

“Good morning,” she said, quietly, smiling slightly, “I wasn’t sure when you’d be back down so I didn’t pour you coffee, but it's ready for you.”

He couldn’t stop the smile growing on his lips if he had wanted to. He stepped into the kitchen and around the counter, not able to pull his eyes off of her. She cupped her hands around her mug, looking up at him from underneath her lashes. He turned away to pour his coffee, pulling her creamer out of the fridge and stirring several spoonfuls of sugar into it before taking a sip and sighing, leaning back against the fridge.

“So,” she said, at last.

“So,” he replied, feeling awkward.

She didn’t say anything further, just looking at him. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage, eidetic memory replaying every moment of the night before. Finally she twisted, placing her coffee on the counter behind her. She stared at him a moment longer, then took two small steps towards him, crossing the small space between them. He stood frozen as she stopped in front of him, reaching up on her tiptoes, and placing a slow, sweet kiss on his lips. Without looking, he placed his coffee cup behind him, spilling a little, as both his hands raised to cradle her face and pull her closer to him. She stumbled over his feet, hands reaching out to steady herself. They landed on his sides, thumbs stroking his stomach slightly and the warmth of them took his breath away. She pulled back, but didn’t step away from him. They looked at each other for a long moment, his fingers tangled in her hair. Then she smiled and it was radiant and Spencer thought he might die.

“So,” she said, taking a small step back to gaze at him, “What would you like to do today?”

He pulled an arm around her shoulders, pulling her back towards him. He rested his cheek against her hair, thinking. The animalistic side of his brain, still replaying the night before and now their most recent kiss, wanted to say something suave. Something Morgan would say that could send all the ladies into palpitations, but his mind suddenly went blank.

“I don’t care,” he murmured, “As long as I get to spend the day with you.”

She smiled up at him. She pulled away completely, her hand jumping to her hair. It was a little frizzy and mussed from sleep, but Spencer thought she had never looked more beautiful. 

“That sounds like a great plan to me,” she responded, “Let me freshen up a little bit first.” She eyed Spencer’s wrinkled shirt, frowning. “Should we stop at your place too?”

He nodded, feeling a sudden panic at the idea of bringing her back to his place. There was something that felt fundamentally different about bringing a woman like Jemma to his place as opposed to staying at hers. But he couldn’t lie, his clothes felt messy and lived in, especially after a flight across the country and a night sharing a couch. He realized suddenly he had been lost in his thoughts and when he refocused he saw a small wrinkle of concern across Jemma’s brow.

“Spence,” she murmured, placing a soft hand on his cheek, angling his face down to hers, “What’s going through that big brain of yours?”

He gave her a tight smile, “Nothing. Just trying not to overthink it. Garcia says I have a tendency to do that.”

She smiled, and reached up to place another soft kiss on his lips.

“Garcia’s kind of a genius,” she murmured before spinning gracefully out of his arms and heading up the stairs, “Try to stay grounded until I’m finished getting ready.”

He ran a hand through his hair, grinning goofily up at her and took a deep breath, steadying himself.

* * *

“Dr. Spencer Reid, your apartment is a dream,” was the first phrase out of Jemma’s mouth as soon as he opened the door. 

She sped into the apartment, stopping immediately at his wall of bookshelves.At random, she slid a book from it’s spot on his shelf and sunk into a nearby armchair, reading. Lost to the world, it took a few moments before she realized he hadn’t moved and was, instead, watching her with a bemused look on his face. She smiled sheepishly at him.

“Sorry,” she said, not sounding the least bit sincere, “You should know by now I can’t control myself when it comes to a full freaking library.”

He didn’t say anything immediately, laughing quietly at her. He leaned slightly against his kitchen island, examining her in the soft light. Her jokingly indignant expression faded into something softer and more intimate. A few moments passed and she narrowed her eyes, mischief back on her face, smiling slyly at him.

“Don’t just stare at me, Doc,” she said, “We’re here for a reason. Go get changed so we can get started on our day together!”

He laughed, feeling giddy, and threw up his hands, “Ok, ok, I’m going!”

He turned to go, feeling her eyes tracking him down the hallway towards his bedroom. He tossed a quick glance over his shoulder at her. She was still looking at him, that intimate smile playing on her lips. His goofy grin grew and she turned back to the book on her lap, turning the page. Spencer slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower

She was at least a quarter of the way done with the book by the time he stepped back into the living room. She had curled herself into the armchair, back against one of the arms, her legs dangling over the other. She held up one finger as he opened his mouth to say something to her, and flipped the page one more time, before marking her place with a scrap of paper she must have found nearby, and placing the book on the coffee table in front of her.

“I couldn’t just leave without finishing the chapter,” she said, simply at his amused questioning look. She pulled herself out of the chair and clapped her hands once. “So where are we going, Dr. Reid?”

He grinned slowly at her and turned to go without another word. When she didn’t follow immediately, still in his living room looking slightly apprehensive, he waved a hand at her.

“Come on,” he encouraged, “You’ll see where we’re going.”

She rolled her eyes at him, finally following him. “You’re lucky I like you, Doctor,” she teased.

* * *

“I pride myself in being a man of science,” Spencer began, as the empty planetarium began to darken and the next show began. He had slipped the teenager at the auditorium doors a twenty so the boy would close the doors early, giving the couple their privacy. “But I have to say, even I can see why so many study astrology..”

She tipped her head back, watching the stars begin to light up across the ceiling. “Would you think less of me if I told you I read my horoscope every now and then?”

He scoffed, eyes also scanning the ceiling. “I could never think less of you,” he murmured.

She reached over across the armrest, lacing her fingers between his and laying her head on his shoulder. He turned his face away from the lights, focusing instead on their hands. Still smiling, he cleared his throat.

“Astrology has been dated to at least the 2nd millennium BCE,” he started again, murmuring in her ear even though there was no one around to interrupt. She hummed, encouraging him to continue. Smiling, he did so, “It actually has its roots in calendrical systems that were used to predict seasonal shifts and to interpret celestial cycles as signs of divine communications. Many cultures have attached importance to astronomical events, and some - such as the Hindus, Chinese, and the Maya - developed elaborate systems for predicting terrestrial events from celestial observations.”

“I wonder which planet was in retrograde when you decided to look for _Wuthering Heights_ in my bookstore,” she murmured, her tone lightly teasing.

“Probably Venus,” Spencer said without thinking. He held his breath a second worrying he may have said too much, even if this conversation was about something ridiculous like astronomy. However, she didn’t respond, instead sighing deeply and readjusting her head on his shoulder.

After the light show, they wandered through the rest of the exhibits, stopping at the small food court in the center of the building to rest and rehydrate. They split a chocolate chip cookie, something Spencer had never done before as the idea of the swapping of germs would have been too overwhelming. At that particular moment, however, he didn’t seem to mind. He pinched another piece of cookie off.

“Why didn’t you ever finish your degree?” he asked, suddenly.

Jemma looked surprised at the question. She looked away, taking a moment to consider her answer. She took another piece of cookie.

“I guess it just got to be a lot,” she said, finally. She looked slightly embarrassed. “It wasn’t a particularly long program - only 30 hours or a two year cohort - but things just kind of added up.”

She fell silent, looking conflicted. He reached out for her hand, mirroring the support she had given him less than 24 hours before. She took a deep, steadying breath.

“Ok, well, like I said before - living here is expensive. My parents are comfortable, but I didn’t want to burden them by asking them for money. I mean, I’m a 26 year old woman, I should be able to support myself by now.” She sounded indignant, angry at herself. “Before I met Matt and got a job at The Raven I tried a variety of other jobs - mostly waitressing at various bars and restaurants - but the hours sucked and the pay was atrocious and I fell behind in my program.”

She took a sip of water and snapped the last piece of cookie in half, offering him the last bit. As she chewed, she looked at the building around her, but he could tell she wasn’t taking anything in.

“Somehow I made it work, but then, a semester before I was supposed to graduate, my mom had a heart attack.” He reached for her hand again, holding it in both of his hands. “She’s fine now, but it was touch and go for a while. Her body had some kind of electrical issue that just shut her heart off. My dad told me her heart stopped twice before they were able to restart it. They were halfway across the country and I couldn’t do anything to help. I dropped all my classes the next day and flew home.”

She looked up at him, looking slightly embarrassed. “They’ve always been so supportive. My mom wouldn’t let me stay, basically forcing me back out the door as soon as she was physically fit enough. When I got back to Virginia it just felt weird to go back to a program I had failed so I found the job at The Raven and I’ve been there ever since.”

She ducked her head back down, playing with the wrapper. When she spoke next she sounded slightly embarrassed.

“I know my story isn’t nearly as traumatic and brave as yours, but occasionally I do feel like a little bit of a failure.” She slowly raised her eyes to look up at him. “I mean, you’re a literal genius with three docturates.”

He laughed suddenly, taking them both by surprise. Jemma looked a little affronted and he realized his mistake.

“I’m not laughing at you, I promise,” he insisted, raising his hands in apology, “But, Jem, you should not be measuring your successes and failures by other people’s standards. I’m a recovering drug addict, by your standards, doesn’t that make you a success and me a failure?”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head.

“From what I’ve seen you are successful. Not everyone’s path is the same - believe me, I’ve seen all kinds of people from all kinds of backgrounds. Just because you’ve stumbled doesn’t mean you’ll stay down. According to the national average life expectancy for women you still have over half of your lifetime left,” He leaned back in his chair, taking her in. She still looked slightly closed off, but she was beginning to smile again, looking slightly less embarrassed. “If you want to accomplish something I believe that you can.”

She gave him a strange look as though she were appraising him. Finally she smiled and nodded, looking at her lap. “You know, you’re pretty smart, right?”

He shrugged, “I’ve been told that a few times.” He stood, moving around to stand in front of her, offering her a hand. “Are you ready to go? We still have plenty of daylight left.”

She stared up at him, smiling that blinding smile he had come to crave. She placed her hand in his and he pulled her up out of her chair. Feeling brave, he placed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, watching her as she giggled at him.

“Whatever you choose to do,” he said as they turned away from their table, Jemma tossing their trash in the bins, “Know that I am here to help and support.”

She knocked her shoulder into his, smiling shyly. He used the contact to grab her hand, lacing his fingers between hers and squeezing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! Not going to lie I'm a little nervous about Jemma's backstory. I borrowed a lot from my own life so I hope you enjoyed seeing a little behind the curtain of how Jemma ticks and how this author ticks. Oh, also, I wrote this chapter before I had seen the episode where we really got to see what Spencer's apartment looked like so his apartment here may not look exactly like what the set designers created.
> 
> Also, Happy belated Thanksgiving to all my American readers (and a VERY belated Thanksgiving to my Canadian ones). I hope you were all safe and, if you did gather with your families, I hope you got to tell off your conservative uncle and then ate lots and lots of pie because you deserve it.
> 
> I hope you all have a WONDERFUL week and I will see you next Friday!


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma finally gets a Girl's Night with Penelope, JJ, and Emily...

_ For when you want to try again - _ He had written the note on a manila folder, dropping it off with Matt before he had left for another case across the country. When I came in later that morning, Matt handed it to me, practically vibrating with questions. He hovered by my shoulder as I undid the top of it, pulling out an application back into George Washington University. When he saw the logo at the top, Matt sucked in a breath.

“Are you thinking of going back?” he asked, torn between excitement and dismay.

I flipped through the application, considering. “I don’t know yet,” I answered, truthfully.

He hummed in a noncommittal answer. Then he cleared his throat, plucking the application out of my hands to flip through it himself.

“Doesn’t your Doctor know that this entire application is entirely online?” He scoffed, “He definitely didn’t need to print it out and drop it off with me like some kind of romantic novel.”

I snatched it back out of his hands, sticking my tongue out at him.

“ _ My _ Doctor doesn’t like technology all that much,” I replied, lamely. Matt smirked at me and I stuffed the application back in the folder, shoving it under the register. “Don’t give me a hard time because you’re just sad you don’t have your own doctor.”

He placed a hand on his heart, looking hurt. “Ouch. That hurts, Jem.”

I mimed fishing, my middle finger slowly raising. From the back of the bookstore a mother scoffed loudly, covering her child’s eyes. She hurried him around the corner, away from view. I attempted to wave at her in a mute apology. Matt tried to keep his laugh quiet, a task he failed miserably at. I shoved his shoulder, laughing with him.

He turned, leaning against the counter across from me, examining the bookstore, keeping an eye on the various patrons browsing our selection. Finally, he sighed.

“If you do decide to go back,” he said, suddenly sober. “I hope you’ll decide to stay on, even in a part time capacity.”

I paused, looking up at him. He hadn’t turned back to talk to me so all I could see was the back of his head, but I could tell he was dealing with some kind of emotion. I reached over and patted his back. He tossed a glance over his shoulder, giving me a quick smile.

“Of course,” I replied, “This place is just as much home as my actual home is. I wouldn’t just abandon you. Besides,” I planted an almost genuine smile on my face, but he saw right through it. “You’ve been saying for awhile now that you wanted to hire some extra help for the weekend shifts.”

He nodded, finally turning to face me. He leaned heavily on his elbows.

“Ok, I’ll tell you what,” he stated, sounding like he was striking a deal on Wall Street, “you help me hire a part-time employee we can start training so that, when you finally gather up enough courage to fill out that application - don’t try arguing with me I know you and how you operate - and when you finally finish your degree, I won’t miss you quite as much when you’re gone.”

I smiled at him, feeling slightly touched at his sincerity. I nodded quietly, not trusting myself to say anything. He nodded once, confirming our unofficial deal, and patted the desk once before turning towards the closest patron to ask what they were looking for.

When he was gone - off in search of a book the patron described simply as ‘blue’ - I pulled the manila folder out from under the register, flipping through the application one more time.  _ For when you want to try again _ …

* * *

“Is this  _ it?!” _ I heard a familiar voice screech before the doorbell jingled.

I was kneeling at one of the endcaps, restocking some books, completely zoning out for the evening. We were 20 minutes away from locking the doors and shutting down for the evening so the hurricane that is Penelope Garcia took me completely by surprise, knocking me sideways.

“Penelope!” I exclaimed, picking myself off the ground, dusting off my jeans, “What are you doing here?”

The doorbell jingled again and two more familiar faces walked in, looking bemused.

“Emily! JJ!” I said, a few shelves behind me Matt poked his head out at the commotion. Emily and JJ gave an awkward wave in his direction.

“It’s Girls Night!” Penelope responded. By the way her voice rose and the way she swayed slightly I could tell Girls Night had started several drinks ago.

I laughed, pulling Penelope into a quick hug. She responded eagerly, swinging me side to side. Emily pulled us gently apart, keeping an arm across Penelope’s shoulders. JJ eyed me for a quick moment, smiling.

“Do you want to join us?” She asked, finally. Penelope nodded vigorously.

I tossed a glance back at Matt. He looked down at his watch, gaging the time. He looked back up at me and shrugged. “I can shut down here if you want to go,” he said, simply.

I grinned at him, hastily finishing the restock and practically prancing back towards the shelves he was in. I hugged him hard, trying to put all the emotion and thankfulness I had been feeling all day in one squeeze. When I pulled back he looked slightly bemused, but he smiled.

“I’ll stop by your house and let Bruno out, ok?” 

“Did you know that you’re the best boss ever?”

He rolled his eyes and waved a hand in my direction. “Get out of here, Princess.”

I headed towards the door with the ladies. Before we left, Penelope turned, stumbling a little on her heels and waved towards Matt.

“Thank you for letting her go! You are a man among boys, a hero among men!” She called. Matt stared after her, looking a little unsure she was even real.

In the cool breeze I felt exhilarated. Emily had put her arm around Penelope again, attempting to steady her. JJ pulled her arm around my shoulders, falling into step beside me. 

“So what’s the plan?” I asked, unable to keep the smile off my face.

JJ shrugged just as Penelope shrieked up into the sky, “Drinks!”

Emily turned us down a darkened alleyway. If I had been by myself or with anyone else aside from three (ok, maybe two and Penelope) capable BAU agents, I may have been apprehensive, but JJ and Emily strutted forward, confident. Their confidence was infectious, and I tossed my head back, straightening my spine, feeling like an Amazon or one of Charlie’s Angels. We stopped at an unmarked metal door and I felt a trickle of uncertainty between my shoulder blades.  _ Had I misinterpreted this situation? Was I about to be murdered? _

Emily rapped on the door, the sound echoing in the dark, empty alleyway. A window I had originally missed slid open to reveal the dark eyes of a strange man.

“Password?” He growled.

“Artemisia Absinthium ,” Emily responded in a whisper.

The window slid shut and we were alone again in the alleyway. Then I heard a series of clicks as the door unlocked and it opened. JJ, arm still around my shoulders, pulled me forward into a shadowed stairway, Emily and Penelope close behind. Small candles dotted the edges of the stairs, lighting our way as we went two flights down to another industrial looking door. Pulling away from me, JJ grabbed the door with two hands, sliding it across the wall. The door opened to a large room - a speakeasy. The bar was off to the right of the door, curving around the side of the space. There were booths against the other walls, bracketed by curtains I could tell could be pulled closed if someone wanted privacy. In the back I could see a dance floor, partially full of gyrating bodies, the music thumping through the floor and up into my chest.

“Welcome to The Green Lady Lounge,” the bartender said, sweeping an arm around the space. 

“This has been around the block from my job  _ the whole time?”  _ I asked no one in particular, my voice incredulous.

Emily smiled, sidling up to the bar. The rest of us followed closely behind her. She leaned in, the bartender meeting her in the middle in order to hear her over the music and the voices of the other patrons.

“Can we get an absinthe fountain to that table?” she asked, pointing towards a free table close to the dance floor. She slid a credit card across the bar to him and he nodded.

We made our way across the room, squeezing past other crowded tables. Several of them had what I assumed we had ordered - a fancy water cooler-looking contraption full of green liquid. I gulped a little. I hardly ever drank and this would be my first time playing with the green fairy. If nothing else, I would be in for a fun and probably long night. I slipped my phone out of my pocket, sending a quick message to Matt pleading with him to just stay over at my apartment. There was a good chance I wouldn’t be home to let Bruno out before bed.

We settled around the table and the bartender was there almost immediately. He had a tray of glasses full of ice water, which he placed in front of us with a wink in Emily’s direction. When he headed back towards the bar, we dissolved into giggles poking fun at Emily’s expression.

“He’s not even my type,” she scoffed, waving her hand dismissively.

“So what  _ is  _ your type?” Penelope replied, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. 

Emily shrugged, looking around the bar. “I’ll know it when I see it.”

JJ laughed, winking at me from across the table. She sipped on her water, examining her phone. Emily peered over the top of it, spying on her screen.

“How are the boys?” She asked.

JJ waved a dismissive hand. “Oh they’re fine. I’m just being an overbearing mom. This is the first time I’ve left Spence alone with Henry for longer than an hour.”

“Spence?” I asked, without thinking, “Spencer?”

JJ nodded, smiling. Penelope turned her suggestive wiggling eyebrows in my direction.

“Yeah, he promised he’d babysit tonight since I couldn’t find a sitter. If it wasn’t for him I would have had to back out of Girls’ Night.” Suddenly, the bartender was back. He was balancing a giant fountain between the tips of his fingers, four glasses wedged between the fountain and his chest. We all cheered when he set it all on the table with no issue. JJ laughed, “And I would have missed out on this!”

Emily took turns filling the glasses passing them around the table. She pulled away when Penelope reached for hers, looking motherly. “You have to finish that glass of water first, Garcia. We have to sober you up a little bit before we can get you drunk.”

Penelope pouted, but followed orders, sipping her water some more. Emily placed the glass in front of her, satisfied. Penelope took a couple more sips of water before turning back to me, her eyebrows wiggling again.

“ _ So, _ ” she crooned, smirking at me, “Give us all the dirty deets. Spill the tea, sis! All the other phrases that mean tell us about you and the Doctor!”

I could feel my cheeks warm and took a quick drink of the absinthe in front of me. It burned immediately and I coughed. Emily clapped me on the back and I straightened, my eyes watering. The alcohol hit my system suddenly, my head already feeling a little fuzzy.

“Um…,” I started, still slightly choked, “What do you want to know?”

That was apparently the wrong question - or, in their opinion, the right one - each woman launched into a seemingly endless list of questions.

“Have you guys gone out again?” JJ asked, eyes gleaming.

“Does he launch into long winded explanations outside of the office?” Emily said, draining her glass and reaching forward to refill it. Penelope smacked her on the arm.

“Is he good in bed?” Penelope asked, sending me spluttering again. JJ tipped her head back, laughing uncontrollably.

I took another sip, careful not to choke again. The fuzzy feeling intensified and I found it much easier to drink. I put the glass back on the table, feeling slightly reckless.

“Yes, yes, and,” I eyed Penelope, mischievously. Her hands were curled into fists up by her face, excitement radiating off of her. “I don’t know...yet,” I finished with a wink.

The women let out a holler as one, cat-calling and banging the table, drawing the attention of the tables nearby. Emily refilled my glass, clinking hers against mine. The lights felt bright and warm on my face as I took another sip. We drank as one, easily draining our glass as the alcohol hit our systems. Penelope set her glass down, her cheeks pink.

“At least tell us if he’s  _ kissed you _ ,” she said, her palms flat against the table as she leaned in closer to me. JJ and Emily said nothing, watching me closely. 

I couldn’t have hid my reaction even if I was sober, but the alcohol already in my body made it difficult to keep a straight face. I could feel the grin that grew uncontrollably across my face. I attempted to hide it behind my glass, taking another sip, but the ladies shook their heads at me.

“No, you can’t get out of answering this question,” Emily said, putting a hand on my arm and lowering my glass for me, “Spill.”

I rolled my eyes, still grinning. “Fine - yes, he has.”

They erupted as one, screeching. Penelope immediately began asking follow up questions - is the Doctor a good kisser? Was there tongue involved? Was the kissing on the lips? (JJ smacked Penelope on the shoulder at that one) - I pursed my lips and sipped on my drink imperiously.

“I’m not one to kiss and tell,” I responded simply to a corus of disappointed groans. Emily refilled my glass in a not so subtle move to loosen my tongue. I changed tactics quickly, asking JJ about Will and Henry which she answered begrudgingly. Soon we were discussing Will’s prowess in the bedroom, my relationship with Spencer Reid on the backburner.

At some point - was it three or four glasses in? - Penelope decided she wanted to dance. Emily and JJ, in a drunken debate about the importance of dry shampoo, waved her off, unwilling to stop their discussion. I stood, tipping a little into the table, and offered my hand.

“Let us dance, m’lady!” I exclaimed. Shrieking with laughter, Penelope took it and we passed over the other two, already mid-dance by the time we got to the dance floor.

“Oh how I wish my Chocolate Thunder was here to dance with me,” I heard Penelope yell over the thumping music, somehow still sounding wistful. 

“I know how you feel,” I called back into her ear, “Can you imagine  _ Dr. Reid _ on this dance floor?”

She stopped in the dance floor, flapping her hands in my direction. “You should call him!”

I stopped too, the two of us an island in the sea of heaving bodies. Something about her statement felt wrong, like I was forgetting an important detail, but my absinthe soaked brain couldn’t seem to remember why. _ Why wasn’t he here with me right now? _

“I should!” I responded finally and we both began dancing again. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, fumbling at the keys before I found Spencer’s name. I pressed a finger to my ear, barely blocking out the noise.

“Hello?” He answered, sounding a little groggy.  _ What time was it? _ “Jem? Are you ok?”

“Doctor!” I called. Penelope flapped her hands again, excited, “You should come dancing with us!”

“I can’t. I’m babysitting Henry right now -,” he paused, sounding confused _. Oh right, that’s why. _ “Wait, us? Who is us?”

I stopped dancing, out of breath. I pointed back towards the table. Penelope nodded and we pushed through the crowd again.

“Me, Pen, Em, and JJ,” I replied, finally out of the crush, “Girls Night!”

I heard him laugh a little, “I’d hate to interrupt Girls Night, Jemma.”

I pouted and Penelope, still watching, mimicked me. “But I miss you!”

“I miss you too, but I’ll tell you what,” he said, sounding amused, “You stay with the ladies tonight and come with them to Hotch’s Triathlon tomorrow morning. I’ll meet up with you then.”

“Triathlon?” I said, disgusted. Running was the  _ furthest _ thing from my mind, “I just want to dance.”

He laughed again and my drunken mind imagined him, hair artfully messy, lounging on JJ’s couch, smiling my favorite smile. I suddenly remembered another night he had spent lounging on a couch, looking beautifully disheveled. My heart skipped a beat and I almost took off out the door of the speakeasy to find my way to him.

“I’ll have to raincheck you on that dance,” he was saying. I forced my brain to focus, “But I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?”

“Ok,” I said, not even attempting to hide the disappointment in my voice. I thought I heard him laugh again, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you, Doc!”

I hit end and then my brain caught up with my mouth. I looked up at Penelope, panicked. Her eyes were wide, hands clapped over her mouth.

“OhmygodIjusttoldhimIlovedhim,” I blurted in a rush, “ohmygodohmygodohmygod.”

“Don’t freak out! Don’t freak out!” Penelope exclaimed, obviously freaking out, “You’re ok! You’re going to be ok!”

She grabbed my shoulders, hurrying me back to the table while I spat gibberish. Emily and JJ looked up in alarm.

“What happened? What’s going on?” Emily asked, suddenly in agent mode. She tried to stand to survey the bar for a creep, but she stumbled a little, careening into JJ.

“So, uh, a little snafu,” Penelope started, as I stared catatonic into the mostly empty absinthe fountain, “We may have called Reid and Jemma may have told him she loved him.”

The entire table fell silent, a quiet bubble within the loud bar. JJ was the first to break the silence, a laugh bursting out of her lips before she slapped a hand over her mouth. The damage was done, however. Emily began to giggle, leaning forward to place her forehead against the table, laughing uncontrollably. Penelope began to chuckle as well, the panic fading from her face as her eyes darted between me and Emily. I felt my lips begin to tug upwards as the whole situation became unbelievably funny to me as well. We laughed for what felt like an hour, my belly aching, lungs sore. JJ snagged a waiter as they passed.

“Could you bring us a bottle of champagne?” she asked, winking at me, “We have a special occasion to celebrate.”

* * *

The world was simply too bright. I adjusted my sunglasses, groaning as another runner crossed the finish line, causing the crowd around us to erupt into cheers. Beside me Penelope had her head in her hands.

“What did you guys drink last night?” Derek asked, laughing. Above him, Hotch’s son, Jack cheered, sending another spike of pain through my brain.

“The green fairy,” Penelope complained. My stomach turned at her words. I never wanted to think about that fairy ever again. She looked up at him, her eyes hidden behind her own shades, “You’re in the FBI; could you get the entire crowd to stop cheering.”

Derek laughed, shaking his head. I was sure it was thanks to the boy balanced on his shoulders that he didn’t launch into more prying questions. I felt a warm hand on my back and when I looked up, my head swimming at the movement, Spencer was smiling warmly back at me.

“Well, good morning,” he said, sounding smug, “I heard you had kind of a wild night.”

JJ, next to him, reached out, putting a palm over his mouth. “Shhh. You’re too loud.”

He ducked out from under her, laughing. “‘A couple of hours, a couple of hours.’ You guys didn’t come home til sunrise.”

“Spence,” I said, reaching up to try to quiet him like JJ. He was quick, pushing my hand away and wrapping an arm around me. “I’m begging you, please stop talking.”

I leaned heavily against him. Penelope caught the movement, but she seemed too hungover to make a comment. Spencer, arm still across my shoulders, flicked his wrist to examine his watch.

“By my estimates, Hotch should be finishing any minute.”

Sure enough, the unit chief - looking much different in a sleeveless tank and sneakers - sprinted around the corner, racing through the finish line. He stopped at a table nearby, picking up a water bottle he immediately guzzled, and grabbed his medal from the woman behind the table. We moved as a group toward him, the team hugging him first to congratulate him on his achievement. 

“Do you want to go grab some lunch?” Morgan offered, eyeing me and Penelope as we had resorted on resting against each other to keep ourselves upright.

“As long as it's greasy,” Emily said, in a weak voice. 

Penelope nodded, and we regained our footing to head towards the cars. As she pulled ahead, to catch up with Morgan, I felt Spencer’s arm wrap around my shoulders again. My muddled mind flashed back to the night before - I had seen the outgoing call I had made to Spencer at 1am when I had woken up this morning, draped horizontally across Penelope’s bed - but I was struggling to remember all the details of our conversation. Something about it turned my already fragile stomach.  _ What had I said? How had I embarrassed myself? _

Spencer offered nothing, walking with me in a slightly awkward silence. I wrapped my arm around his middle, leaning into him. Maybe when I didn’t feel like death warmed over I would remember or maybe it was something I should just keep buried in my brain. I squinted up into the sun to look up at him. He met my gaze, smiling. I couldn’t quite read the emotion behind his eyes.

“You ok?” he asked, his face a mixture of genuine concern and amusement. 

I groaned and he laughed pulling me closer and planting a light kiss on my hair. I smiled at the gesture, feeling a little better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! I can't believe we're already in December. Let's just all collectively agree that we're not going to say that 2021 is better so we don't set ourselves up for disappointment, ok? 
> 
> Anyhoo, I FINALLY got Season 13 from the library so I'm kinda forcing myself through it. TBH, Criminal Minds just isn't the same without Hotch or Morgan, but I have to keep watching sweet baby Reid.
> 
> I hope you all had a great week and that next week will be just as great!


	13. Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma contemplates completing her publishing degree and The Raven Bookstore gets a new employee...

_ Tell us a story... _ The essay question was mocking me. I stared at my empty word document, the cursor blinking on a blank page. I had killed enough time, filling out all the easy parts of my application back into GWU. There were only so many times I could fill out my name, address, and social security number before I ran out of the minutiae. Now I was stuck on the important details.

I watched the cursor blink, scowling at myself in the reflection of my laptop screen. I didn’t remember this being a question when I had first applied for the program. Why couldn’t I be grandfathered in as a returning student? Unfortunately, according to the admissions rep I had sent a slightly passive aggressive email to, the only thing I was guaranteed as a returning student was a fee waiver. I suppose I should have been happy I didn’t have to shell out $30 for a university to potentially reject me, but I couldn’t help but feel a little bitter as the cursor continued to judge me, blinking repeatedly.  _ Tell us a story… _

A pile of printed pages slammed on the counter next to me and I jumped. Heart pounding, I examined the top copy: a shoddily written cover letter.

“What is this?” I asked, picking it up to examine it more closely.

“Applications,” Matt said, sounding irritated, “There’s twenty-three of them. Maybe two of them are actually literate.”

He picked up the next application packet, scowling. I watched him, feeling awkward. He had been as supportive as he could be while also being my boss, but every time I snuck my laptop out to work on my application while the store was slow he got a little cranky. He had told me a few days after our original conversation, several weeks ago now, that he had posted the job on our website and a couple of job hunting sites, but I never expected more than five people to apply. I set the letter I had been examining aside, along with its accompanying resume, and sifted through the pile.

“Do you want me to go through these?” I asked, trying not to make eye contact, “I can pick out a couple good ones for us to interview.”

He made a noncommittal noise, still pretending to examine the resume in front of him. I closed my laptop screen - it wasn’t like I was getting that much done anyways - and tucked it under the counter again. With it gone, Matt’s shoulders seemed to relax a little bit. He looked up at me, placing his packet on the growing pile on top of mine.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding embarrassed, “I just can’t even imagine replacing you.”

I hurried around the counter, pulling him into a hug. “Matt,” I crooned, “I’m not leaving yet!” I pulled back, looking him in the eye, “Who knows? I may not even end up leaving. I can’t figure out how to answer this one essay question.”

He looked at me confused.

“Essay question? Don’t you just have to reapply and - bam - you’re back in the program?”

I laughed bitterly. “Apparently not. I don’t have to pay $30, but I do have to ‘ _ tell them a story _ .’”

I rolled my eyes at him. He stared at me, eyebrows slightly raised. A moment passed where all I could hear was the ticking of the clock on the wall above the door and the low noise of our ambient music. Matt broke first, busting out laughing - the sound loud in the space. I followed quickly after, snorting. We broke away from each other, still hiccupping. I couldn’t entirely say why we were laughing, but after stressing over my application, it felt good to laugh.

Matt separated the stack, handing me one half. “You review this half, I’ll review the other and we each pick one person to interview, sound good?”

I nodded, saluting at him. “Sir, yessir.”

He sized me up, “It’s about time you treat me with a little respect around here.”

I stuck my tongue out at him, glancing quickly around before I flipped him the bird.

The store continued to stay slow - only a handful of patrons for the entirety of the morning - so at lunch Matt waved me out of the store encouraging me to get some lunch, review some applications, and “work on that story.” Feeling a little guilty for leaving even though I didn’t have a good reason to, I found myself wandering down the street before stopping at a local coffee shop nearby. I ordered a coffee - hazelnut, room for cream, two sugars of course - and a turkey bacon sandwich and settled at a table on the patio, enjoying the cool breeze. I sipped my coffee, thinking of Spence. He and the team had jetted off to Oregon a few days ago and I hadn’t heard much from him since aside from our nightly text messages. 

Things still felt…different. It wasn’t exactly bad and it wasn’t quite weird, but I couldn’t exactly put my finger on it. When I had finally recovered from my hangover - a lot harder now that I was over twenty-five - my memory had only returned in bits and pieces. I remembered calling him on the dance floor, embarrassing myself by drunkenly inviting him to dance, but aside from that all I remembered was laughing with the ladies. When we did spend time together I caught Spencer gazing at me, looking thoughtful, but when I would turn to confront him about it he would have already looked away, focusing back on his book instead. 

I threw caution to the wind, mentally attempting to calculate the time difference while simultaneously dialing his number. As it rang, the barista arrived, placing my plate on the table in front of me.

“Jemma?” Spencer answered on the third ring, “Are you ok?”

I laughed, “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” I fell silent, feeling awkward, “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, not at all!” He said quickly, and I could almost see the panicked look in his eyes, “How are you?”

“I’m good, I’m good.” We fell silent. I could hear him breathing on the other line, but he didn’t offer anything further. I closed my eyes, massaging the bridge of my nose. “Hey, do you want to get dinner when you get back?”

“Dinner? Yeah, dinner sounds good,” I could hear a smile in his voice which eased the anxiety a little in my stomach. “I’ll let you know when we head back, ok?”

I nodded, though I knew he couldn’t see it. “Yeah, sounds great. Stay safe, Doc.”

“You too, Jem,” and the line went dead. 

I pulled the phone back, staring at his name. Just a few short weeks ago we had kissed on my couch, falling asleep next to each other, and now it felt like we had taken giant leaps backwards on whatever we were calling this relationship. I pushed my plate away, suddenly not hungry.

“Are you ok?”

I looked up, surprised. A shorter woman with brown hair was leaning against the chair across from me, looking concerned. She looked to be about my age, a coffee cup in one hand and a giant purse balanced on the crook of her arm. When she caught my eye she gave me a tight smile and pulled the chair out to sit down.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” she started, sitting down gingerly as though expecting me to tell her off, “You just looked really upset and I know I would want someone to talk to if I was in the same situation.”

I laughed awkwardly, waving my hand nonchalantly. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

She leaned forward, a knowing gleam in her eye. “It's a guy, isn’t it?”

Laughing again, this time more sincere, I nodded. “How could you tell?”

“About 90% of a woman’s headaches are guy related,” she answered, taking a sip of her coffee.

“I know a guy who would probably be able to give you the exact statistic,” I responded, then I ducked my head, “Actually the same guy giving me trouble.”

She nodded, looking smug. “Sounds about right.”

She extended a hand across the table and I took it, feeling simultaneously awkward and relieved to have someone to talk to that wasn’t Matt.

“Amy Carson,” she said, pumping my hand once and then settling back in her chair, placing the bag next to her, “I just moved here from Florida.”

“Jemma Hamilton” I responded, “Welcome to Virginia. What made you want to swap out sun and beaches for this?”

She waved a dismissive hand, leaning over to dig in her purse for her phone. “I just needed a change of scenery. My ex was a real asshole. He was obsessed with his last girlfriend and did everything he could to try and make me her. Like literally - clothes, personality, everything. When I tried to end it he went ballistic. I thought I’d start over here.”

I stared at her, my mouth open. We had just met not five minutes ago and we were apparently at the ‘tell me your traumatic live events’ stage in our friendship.

“Oh my god,” I sputtered, “That’s terrible. I’m glad you made it out ok. Have you settled in alright?”

She nodded, tucking her long brown hair behind one ear. She looked suddenly awkward. 

“Sorry to go all ‘sad story’ on you,” she said, sheepishly. I shook my head, but she continued on, “It’s been a rough few months and you’re the first person I’ve had the courage to come up and talk to.”

I felt for her - when I had returned to Virginia everyone I had known had moved on; either graduating and moving away or continuing on to bigger and better things. I reached across the table, patting her hand awkwardly.

“Well, I’m glad you came to talk to me,” I said, offering her a small smile which she returned shakily, “Let me give you my number.”

She nodded, offering me her phone. When I handed it back to her she beamed at me. 

“Thanks,” she said, sounding a little watery, “And thanks for not being a psycho. I took a chance on you and I’m glad it paid off.”

She offered me finger guns and immediately looked embarrassed. I laughed and, before she could look offended, I offered them right back at her.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one who does finger guns when I don’t know what to do in social situations,” I laughed.

She smiled again, looking relieved, and we fell into conversation. I told her a little bit about my situation with Spencer, feeling slightly obligated after her admission. She seemed fascinated by him, but I wasn’t too worried. After all, he was an agent for the BAU. It was hard not to get wrapped up in the drama that was the Feds. She laughed when I told her about the bar and how something about that night had thrown a wrench in my relationship. She leaned back in her chair, fingers over her mouth as she laughed, eyes glittering.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” she said at last.

I gaped at her, “The big deal is I drunkenly called Spence for  _ god knows what _ and things are awkward now.”

She sat forward again, smirking at me.

“The way I see it, there are three things you could have said to him that has caused this much awkwardness between you.” She held up three fingers. “One, you broke up with him - which I doubt because he’s still taking your calls and you said he agreed to dinner with you. Two, it was a booty call - which is possible, but from what I’ve heard it sounds like he would have jumped at the chance,” I felt my cheeks begin to burn. “Or three, you told him you loved him.”

Something clicked in my brain at her words. I felt a hazy memory float to the surface and the bottom dropped out of my stomach.  _ Love you, Doc! _

I clapped a hand over my mouth, stifling a scream. Around us, several people looked over, slightly concerned. I pulled my hand away, staring wide-eyed at Amy.

“Oh my god!” I shrieked, and she leaned back again looking satisfied, “Oh my god. I said I loved him and I hung up on him.”

“Is that bad?” she asked, arms crossed.

“I don’t know. I mean I’ve known Spencer only a few months and I told him I loved him?”

“Is that such a terrible thing though?” She looked upwards, towards the sky, “Sometimes you just know. It doesn’t have to take years to figure it out.”

I blinked at her. Was I freaked out that I had told Spencer I loved him because I had lied to him? I could feel the answer in my gut:  _ no _ . I was freaked out because I had thrown myself out there and he hadn’t said anything. I was freaked out because it was so nonchalant; thrown out during a drunken phone call in the middle of a dance floor.

“Oh my god,” I murmured.

She folded her arms, smirking. “That’s what I thought.”

On the table in front of her, her phone buzzed. She examined it and shut it off before sighing and moving to stand. 

“I gotta go,” she said apologetically, shrugging her bag onto her shoulder, “Thanks for letting me interrupt your lunch and for allowing me to help with your genius problem.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a problem,” I started. I looked up at her, squinting in the sunlight, “Where are you headed?”

She looked a little uncomfortable, her arms crossing in front of her.

“Well, I’m still on the job hunt, so I have a standing reservation to donate plasma every couple of weeks.” Her phone buzzed again and she clicked a button to silence it. “For some reason jobs are incredibly difficult to come by here.”

I scoffed, “Tell me about it. I’m lucky I found the job I did.”

Sudden inspiration struck, and I stood quickly causing Amy to jump back. I held out a hand imploring her to wait.

“Don’t go to your appointment,” I stated, skirting around the table to grab Amy by the shoulders, “Come with me.”

“Are you sure you’re not a psycho?” She laughed, shakily. I dropped her shoulders and took a tiny step back.

“Positive,” I replied, holding up my hands apologetically, “I work at a bookstore nearby. We recently placed a want ad for some extra hands and I think you’d be a good candidate.”

She looked confused again, her brow furrowing.

“What makes you say that?”

I shrugged, “I just know things. Quick: without thinking, what’s your favorite book?”

She shook her head, thinking hard, “I don’t know.  _ In Cold Blood _ ?”

I nodded appreciatively and reached forward again to take her arm and walk her back down the street towards The Raven Bookstore. “You’ll fit in just fine.”

* * *

To say Matt was surprised when I returned with a flesh and blood applicant would be an understatement, but after I had explained to him how Amy and I had met and the conversation we had had - not only about Spencer, but her tough start in Virginia as well as more insignificant things such as the three books she would bring with her to a deserted island - he seemed to relax and he guided her back into the back office for a more professional interview.

I watched the register, vibrating with anticipation. True, I hadn’t known Amy for very long, but she was smart and witty and, I thought, a good replacement for me whenever I did get out of here. I pulled my laptop back out from under the desk and opened it back to the blank word document.

_ Tell us a story... _ Still nothing. No inspiration. I sighed and opened up the other document that had all my other information. Wanting nothing more than to talk to Spencer, I pulled out my phone, opening the camera app, and snapping a quick selfie with the application in the background. With my lunchtime revelation pounding in my ears, I sent the picture and a message before I could chicken out.

JH: All thanks to you! I can’t wait to see you for dinner whenever that may be!

I waited a moment, looking for the telltale dots to tell me he had seen it and was attempting a response. When several minutes passed by with nothing I clicked my phone shut, disappointed. He was probably at work, saving lives or rattling off some statistic that would remind the team of something important they had missed.  _ Or he’s avoiding you... _ no, I wouldn’t allow myself to think that. I shook my head, trying to clear it, and shoved the phone back in my pocket. 

“I got it!” Amy shrieked, bursting out from the back room, Matt close at her heels. She pulled me into a hug and then froze, turning back to him. “That probably wasn’t very professional was it? Please tell me I still have the job.”

He laughed, nodding. She fist pumped once and then looked embarrassed. Matt scoffed, turning back towards the back office.

“Yeah, I think you’ll be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, what a week! My husband tested positive for COVID on Saturday so I've been juggling work and taking care of him while he was down for the count. Luckily he has mostly recovered now - though he does still have a cough - and I somehow don't have any symptoms, but I am quarantined in my house until after Christmas so fanfiction will have to be one of my many escapes while I slowly lose my mind stuck in this apartment.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I really like the upcoming chapters so I think you all will too! Have a safe and happy weekend. :)


	14. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer deals with the aftermath of Jemma's drunken confession

_Enid, Oklahoma_

Spencer was exhausted. The team had been going nonstop for weeks. First, they tracked down the serial in Oregon. He had been murdering women by poisoning them slowly through renaissance-esque dresses and had attempted to do the same to his little sister. Then, Morgan had got word that his sister had been in a car accident chasing after someone who looked a lot like the cousin who had gone missing decades ago. They had barely a moment to breathe after they hauled the creep in and reunited Cindi with her mother and the rest of Morgan’s family. Dropping heavily into a seat by the window, Spencer immediately had his phone out, ready to call Jemma with a proposition for another late dinner, and then the plane was diverting, turning instead towards Oklahoma where a copycat had surfaced after the death of notorious serial killer Rod Garrett.

He had tried not to overthink - something Garcia was continuously mentoring him on, though she was currently a little bit distracted with her own relationship problems - but it was hard not to when days turned to weeks and he had only heard from Jemma a handful of times. 

_Love you, Doc!_ It had replayed in his head everyday since she had said it. He knew he shouldn’t look too much into it; after all she had said it while heavily intoxicated, but he couldn’t stop himself from replaying it, his eidetic memory breaking down every subtle nuance and inflection. _Love you, Doc!_

“I could never do that,” he heard Rossi whisper.

“Do what?” was Emily’s response.

“Take a nap. Never felt natural.”

Spencer squeezed his eyes tight, trying to fall back into his thoughts, but his concentration was broken now. He could hear the sounds of the station around him and the details of the case had come creeping in, nudging away his fixation on Jemma’s statement.

“I’m actually wide awake,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose and sitting up, “but for future reference, polyphasic sleep is completely natural, quite common in the animal world, and highly beneficial.”

Both Rossi and Emily stared at him with the look he learned to expect: exasperated amusement. He swung his legs off of the bench he had been stretched out on and stood, stretching his arms over his head. He turned to the whiteboard nearby, pictures of victims and details of the case outlined in his messy handwriting. 

“I’m going to grab some coffee,” he announced, turning back to the two of them, “Do you guys want any?”

Emily waved her hand, choosing instead to take a crack at examining the board in front of Spencer. Rossi, however, nodded and stood to follow him. They crossed the busy precinct and ducked into a less populated hallway where an old keurig stood. Spencer sighed, he would kill for some _real_ coffee. His thoughts briefly touched on Jemma’s Starbucks receipt - still tucked in the borrowed copy of _Station Eleven_ (his eleventh reread) stuffed at the bottom of his bag. He cleared his throat, pulling a cup out of the cupboard and placing it in the keurig. 

“What’s on your mind, kid?” Rossi sighed, leaning up against the counter, arms crossed, “You’re never usually this quiet. By now you’d have told me three long winded facts that barely have anything to do with the case.”

Spencer watched the keurig spit out the coffee, thinking. 

“Did you know that the earliest credible evidence of coffee-drinking as the modern beverage appears in modern-day Yemen in southern Arabia in the middle of the 15th century -,”

“Kid, that wasn’t an invitation,” Rossi said, holding up one hand stopping Reid mid-monologue, “Tell me what’s really on your mind.”

Spencer didn’t immediately answer, choosing instead to prepare his almost-coffee. He pulled some milk out of the mini-fridge, checking to make sure it hadn’t expired, and poured it slowly into his cup. Then he grabbed four individually wrapped sugar packets, shaking them loudly before ripping them open as one and dumping them into the now caramel-colored liquid. Rossi looked disgusted.

“I hope I’m still alive the day you realize you can no longer drink your coffee like that,” he said, shaking his head. Spencer scooted over, allowing Rossi space to make his own cup.

As it was brewing, Rossi leveled his gaze back at Spencer.

“Alright, enough stalling.”

Spencer sighed, his eyes rolling up to the ceiling. “It’s Jemma.”

Rossi’s eyes crinkled as he began to smirk. Spencer was getting really tired of all the men in this team mocking him for his relationship.

“Maybe I’m not the right guy for this,” Rossi responded, more to himself than for Spencer.

Spencer shrugged in partial agreement, eyes back down into his cup of coffee. Beside him the keurig sputtered to a stop and Rossi - preferring his coffee black - took a sip. He smacked his lips, letting out a satisfied ‘ _ahh_ ’ that he directed towards Spencer, who rolled his eyes unable to keep the smile off his face.

“She kind of told me she loved me,”

“ _Congratulazioni!_ ” Rossi responded, clapping a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. Then he caught sight of Spencer’s face and his face fell. “Or maybe not?”

“I don’t know, Rossi,” Spencer started, pinching the bridge of his nose again, “The circumstances are strange. She had gone out with JJ, Emily, and Penelope and she called me from the bar they were at, obviously drunk. She just wanted me to go dancing with her -,” Rossi snorted and Spencer continued, “-and she just happened to say it right before she hung up. ‘ _Love you, Doc.’_ I can’t stop thinking about it.”

He turned back to Rossi, feeling a little lost.

“I’m reading too much into it, right?” he pleaded. Rossi’s expression gave away nothing. “She was intoxicated and wrapped up in the moment. I mean she didn’t even say all three words. She was just saying goodbye?”

Rossi didn’t respond for a moment, still examining Spencer, deep in profiler mode.

“Reid, have you heard the phrase _in vino veritas_?”

Spencer nodded, translation already at the tip of his tongue. “‘In wine there is truth,’ but she was drinking absinthe.”

Rossi waved his hands, dismissing him, though he did look momentarily surprised that Jemma had been drunk off that particular spirit. He collected himself and started again.

“Now I’m not saying one way or another about what Jemma’s statement means,” he said, pointing one finger at Spencer, “but she was in a vulnerable state and she chose to call _you_ . She could have said all kinds of things, but she chose to say _that_.” He pulled back, his hands in the air, “But what do I know? I have three ex-wives.”

He snagged his coffee cup off of the counter and headed back over to Emily. Spencer stayed back a moment longer, watching the milk in his coffee swirl. He couldn’t quite place the feeling in his gut. His stomach was roiling with anxiety, but he also felt something like excitement or elation. He filed away the feelings for further investigation and attempted to tamp them down in order to focus on the case. He took another swig of coffee and straightened his shoulders.

* * *

His heart was pounding as he climbed the steps towards Jemma’s apartment. He was still wearing the clothes he had flown in - something he was quickly realizing was becoming a habit for seeing Jemma - but he couldn’t stay away a moment longer. After the team had caught the copycat, they had wasted no time piling on the jet. He got the feeling that the rest of the team were just as exhausted and homesick as he was. Spencer probably wasn’t the only one who felt like he was holding his breath the whole time the plane was in the air, expecting it to be redirected again.

JJ had slid into the seat across from him, with a small smile. He remembered the crush he used to have on her and took a moment to appreciate how she had let that crush mature into the friendship they had today.

“Hey,” she said quietly, “Rossi told me a little bit about your conversation.”

He rolled his eyes, glaring back towards the man. Rossi refused to make eye contact, instead chatting a little too animatedly with Morgan and Emily. Spencer turned back to JJ, who at least had the decency to look sheepish.

“Does no one have any privacy in this team?” Spencer responded, sounding slightly exasperated.

JJ just looked at him. “What do you think?”

He laughed, irritation fading away quickly. He should have guessed. No matter how much he tried, the others always seemed to find out even his most personal details. He suspected Garcia of a lot of that - nothing was hidden from her hacking skills - but he also knew the team cared about him even if that meant they had a tendency to pry. JJ smiled back, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“I think the best thing for you to do is _talk to her_ ,” JJ started, leaning forward and placing her elbows on the table. She attempted to make eye contact, but he looked down at his lap, his fingers twiddling.

“I don’t know how,” was his quiet response. When he looked back up her eyes were soft and she placed a hand palm up on the table. He placed his hand in hers and she squeezed.

“Spence, tell me about Jemma.”

He furrowed his brow, confused. “You know her -,”

“I know, but pretend that I don’t. Tell me about her.”

He scrunched his face, looking away, thinking.

“Well, she’s probably one of the smartest people I know. She has great taste in books and I want to hear her opinions on all my favorite classics even if she hates them. She’s so loving to everyone who crosses her path, but especially to her dog.” He could feel himself start to smile. The words kept coming; he was unable to stop them. “She’s so hard on herself, but I can tell that she puts her entire heart and soul in everything that she does. She tells terrible jokes and always manages to make me feel comfortable in my own skin. She’s so beautiful and I lo-,”

He stopped, eyes darting to JJ. She was smiling again, one hand still holding his across the table, the other cradling her chin.

“I think you know how to talk to her, Spence,” she said.

She pulled away, pulling her legs up into the chair and turning to look out into the darkening sky. Spencer stared into space, mind reeling.

And now he was here, outside of Jemma’s apartment, possibly hyperventilating. He had stopped by his apartment for all of five seconds, long enough to drop his go bag at the door and practically sprint to the nearest grocery store for the prettiest bouquet of flowers he could find. He stalled for time, dipping his nose towards the flowers and inhaling their scent. It wasn’t quite as exquisite as Jemma - a mixture of rose petals and citrus - but it was close. 

He paced a few more times in front of the door. _Just do it. Just ring the buzzer and hand her the flowers. Then you just tell her. You just do it. You tell her._ But he still didn’t ring the buzzer. His bravery was failing and he felt like a fool. He turned to go, berating himself at his cowardice.

“Spence?”

A small fuzzball raced around his feet, jumping up and down. _Bruno_. Spencer turned back and his breath caught.

Jemma had obviously been preparing for bed. She had a pair of black athletic shorts on and a maroon Fall Out Boy sweatshirt, sleeves pushed up the arms. Her hair was damp, starting to curl around her face as it dried. He thought she had never looked more beautiful.

She smiled, rushing forward to meet him, almost knocking him off the top of the stairs. She careened into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle and he returned the embrace, exhaling with relief. _This_ was what he had missed. _This_ was what he had needed.

She stepped back, grinning, and gestured back inside. “Go ahead and get comfortable, if you want. I just have to take Bruno out.”

He nodded, but made no move to leave her, choosing instead to wait at the top of the stairs. She didn’t look surprised when she and Bruno turned back to go inside. Once the dog was unhooked, she embraced him again. This time it felt different - softer and more intimate. Spencer buried his face into her shoulder, breathing in her scent. It was somehow better than he had remembered it. When they pulled apart, he remembered the flowers in his hand and practically threw them into her arms.

“For you,” he said, “As an apology for being gone for so long.”

She pushed her nose into the bouquet, inhaling deeply. “They smell wonderful, but you don’t have to apologize!” Jemma looked back at him, “I know the kind of hours you BAU agents work.”

He shrugged, burying his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself now that his hands were empty. She turned and headed back towards the kitchen, explaining she wanted to get these flowers in water before they wilted. Not wanting to lose sight of her, he followed. 

“So how has work been?” He asked, feeling stupid.

She shrugged, working on trimming the flowers. “It’s been alright. We actually just hired a new girl to help when I go part time.”

“Part time?” He racked his brains for any conversation they may have had. She looked up exasperated.

“For when I go back to school?” 

It clicked suddenly into place and his face broke into a grin. “You applied?”

Her gaze slid away from his and she looked slightly uncomfortable. 

“No, not yet,” she sheepishly admitted, “But I’m working on it! You saw that picture I sent you, right?”

“Oh yeah,” he responded, remembering the selfie she had sent him in the beginning of the Oregon case, “I’m really proud of you, Jem.”

She didn’t say anything, first finishing her arrangement and then smiling up at him. A blonde curl had dried by her face and she kept attempting to tuck it behind her ear. He wanted so badly to reach over and do it for her, but something kept him stuck in the middle of the kitchen flexing his fingers against his sides. Fluffing the flowers one last time, she picked up the vase, carrying it to its new home at the center of her small dining room table and turned to look more squarely at him.

“Spence, are you ok?” she asked, reaching out for his hand. He grabbed it like it was a life raft.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he gasped, not sounding the least bit ok.

She stepped closer, placing a cool hand against his forehead. “It doesn’t feel like you have a fever. Do you want some water?”

He shook his head, “Can we sit?”

She nodded, pulling him into the living room and they settled on the couch. He remembered very vividly the last time they had been on this couch and his heart - already battering his ribcage - moved into his throat. She looked at him expectantly, like she was waiting for him to say something, but he couldn’t get his vocal cords to work. When he didn’t say anything she looked down at her hands, looking anxious.

“Spence,” she started, “I know it’s been awhile, but I wanted to apologize for calling you like that on Girls Night.”

His panicked brain took a moment to comprehend. _Apologize?_

She looked back up at him, her hands still twisting in her lap. 

“I was drunk and I didn’t know what I was saying and I shouldn’t have put you in that position,” she finished in a rush, eyes skittering away from him.

He felt suddenly empty as though the panic had drained out of him and a new emotion had taken over. Dismay. Hurt. Sadness.

“Oh, right,” he forced himself to say, “Um, don’t worry about it. I knew you weren’t in a - uh - sober state of mind.”

She was still twisting her fingers in her lap, but she looked shyly up at him. “Do I still have the rain check on that dance and dinner?”

He laughed once, the air blowing like a gust out of his lungs. Feeling ridiculous, he nodded. “Of course.”

They fell into an awkward silence, interrupted only by Bruno jumping up between them and pushing his head under Spencer’s hand, begging for attention. He obliged for a moment and then slapped his hands onto his thighs, pushing up off of the couch.

“Well,” he breathed, “I should probably head home. I’ve been all over the country and I am very jet lagged. Depending on how long the trip is it can take the average traveler between six and nine days to recover fully so I should probably get started on that.” He knew he was babbling, but he couldn’t stop himself, feeling slightly out of control.

“Ok,” she said after a moment, sounding small. She rose with him, walking a few steps behind. 

They stopped before the door, gazing at each other. She looked confused, like she wanted to say something more, but she didn’t. Finally, she took a tiny step towards him, reaching up on her tiptoes and placing a soft, small kiss on his lips. It was short, _too short,_ and Spencer felt himself relax into her. He cupped her face in both of his hands and pulled her toward him, kissing her deep. She hummed in satisfaction, her hands gripping his arms tightly and then he pulled away.

“Goodnight Jemma,” he said, voice shaky. He pulled open the door and stepped into the balmy air feeling like an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! Thank you everyone for the kind words - my husband and I are still doing alright. He's back at work now and I still don't have symptoms so all-in-all things definitely could be worse. Also, we opened our Christmas gifts early and he got me a Spencer Reid sweatshirt from Etsy so I haven't taken it off.
> 
> I plan on updating next week as well, but just in case life gets in the way, Happy Holidays!


	15. Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma, confused by how her last interaction with Spencer ended, decides to visit him while he's giving a presentation with the rest of the BAU team...

“And he left, just like that?” Amy tossed a glance over her shoulder, looking confused.

I nodded, handing her another book. We were organizing the big table at the front of the store, making intricate towers with all our new inventory. I flipped through one of the books in my arms - a new memoir from author Jenny Lawson - I filed the name away in my brain to borrow later. Amy stood back, looking exasperated.

“Jem, your relationship sounds exhausting,” she responded.

“Tell me about it,” was Matt’s reply. He was several aisles over restocking the Mystery section, but I knew he had been listening. “You weren’t here for the beginning. I had to watch those two awkwardly circle each other while everyone around them drowned in their sexual tension.”

I whipped around, looking for him, but he remained hidden behind the shelves.

“Unfair!” I called, “As I recall you were just as invested in the circling as I was.”

He popped his head up and I took the chance to flip him the bird, something that was happening a lot lately. He returned the gesture and dipped back down.

Amy sighed, circling the table, examining her creation from all angles. She had caught on remarkably fast, though to be fair, we weren’t exactly expecting her to do rocket science. She was still working on which sections were where, but that was easily the most difficult part of the job. Looking satisfied, she turned back to me. 

“You need to talk to him,” she said, simply.

I scoffed.

“You say that like it’s easy.”

“It is!” she exclaimed and I heard Matt hum in agreement, “You said he kissed you when he left, right?”

I blushed at the memory, tucking a curl behind my ear. If he hadn’t pulled away and left so abruptly I was positive something more would have happened, but now everything had me feeling so confused. Amy looked smug at my expression.

“Exactly,” she replied, as though that solved everything, “You just have to sit him down and explain everything to him. Don’t let him speak. Don’t let him leave. Say your piece and then let the chips fall where they may.” She mimed dropping an armful of these proverbial chips on the ground and then winked at me. She clapped her hands, dusting them off, and stalked back to the register. Matt appeared at the end of the aisle, looking satisfied.

“I’m glad I hired her,” he said. I smacked him on the shoulder, laughing.

While we were distracted, a patron had approached the counter, attempting to purchase an armful of books. Amy had performed a transaction several times, but was still a little shaky. More for moral support than actual assistance, I slid behind the counter next to her. Still keeping an eye on her, I pulled my computer out and opened it. I had finally started on the essay question, but had only managed to put three full sentences down and all of them I hated. I minimized the screen, tamping down my guilt for procrastinating again, and opened my web browser. 

Recently I had found myself continuously returning to the GWU website. I told myself it was so I would stay informed with everything going on campus so that when - I refused to use the word ‘ _ if _ ’ - they let me back I would already be well versed in campus culture. In reality, however, I was just torturing myself. I clicked through a couple of the welcome slides on the homepage, scowling at the posed pictures of smiling undergrads in various GWU apparel, and scrolled to the bottom of the site to look at what events were going on on campus.

_ “Profiling 101: Learn about one of the most prolific serial killer cases from the Lead Agent on the case. Thomas Yates murdered women up and down the west coast of the United States beginning in 1992. This lecture is led by Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi, the agent responsible for his arrest, and is accompanied by the current members of his team: SSAs Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, Dr. Spencer Reid, and Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia. Some courses may offer extra credit to those who attend. Lecture begins at 7:00pm with light refreshments served after.” _

I slammed my laptop shut. Spencer hadn’t invited me to the lecture, would it be weird if I just happened to be there? I chewed my lip and snuck a glance at my phone screen -  _ almost six. I could make it. _ _ If I wanted to… _

“Matt,” I called suddenly. He popped his head out of the back office. “Is it ok if I head out early today?”

He exchanged glances with Amy. When he looked back at me he was suspicious. “Why?”

“Are you really going to make me tell you?”

“Yes, only because I like to watch you squirm.” He stepped fully out of the office, his arms crossed, “Why do you need to leave early today, Jemma?”

Amy watched, mute, her head swiveling between Matt and me. I rolled my eyes and slumped.

“Spencer’s team is speaking at the university and I kinda want to go spy on him,” I exhaled in a rush. 

“I knew it!” Matt pointed an accusatory finger at me. It was my turn to glance at Amy, but she looked like she was attempting not to laugh. He pointed a moment longer and then swatted at the air, dismissing me. “Yeah, you can go. But you can’t deny that your relationship is exhausting.”

I tossed my laptop into my bag and heaved it onto my shoulder. “Yeah, we know you’re all knowing,” I replied, rolling my eyes at him. I glanced back at Amy. “You good to close tonight?”

She nodded and lightly punched me on the arm. “Go get ‘em, Tiger.”

“You two are the worst,” I sighed, before heading out the door towards the Metro.

* * *

They were in mid-lecture by the time I made it into the correct lecture hall. The room was packed - filled with students within the criminology field and probably a good amount of students who were just morbidly curious. I took a few steps into the room, finding an empty piece of wall to lean against.

“In simple terms, at the BAU, we use behavioral science, research, case work, and training to hunt down monsters. Rapists, terrorists, pedophiles, and our specialty, serial killers.” Rossi was pacing in front of the rest of the team who were arranged in a loose ‘U’ behind podiums. 

I could sense the room tense with anticipation. Rossi pulled a remote out of his jacket pocket, advancing the slide to an old black and white photo of a younger white man. Perhaps it was just because I already knew he was a serial killer, but I couldn’t help but think he looked like the type. 

Rossi launched into the story of the man. “Thomas Yates was a sadist responsible for the murder of countless women, some we are still discovering today.”

The boy next to me began scribbling notes and I wondered for a moment if I should be worried about any hidden serial killers around me. If he were next to me, Spencer probably would have told me the exact probability of serial killers in the room. Instead he was on stage, gripping his podium so tight I could see the white of his knuckles. It astounded me how he could break down a profile in front of a group of cops, but when it came to his own peers he suffered from stage fright. Suddenly feeling protective, I gathered my things and moved closer to the stage, finding a seat off to the side of one of the stairs.

He didn’t notice me at first. He and the team too wrapped up in telling the story of the capture of Thomas Yates to really see any of the faces in the crowd. It was obvious they had practiced this, and the idea of the team finding time to rehearse made me smile. Derek started to wind down, wrapping up the story.

“In the meantime, Agent Rossi retired, but the BAU grew. We trained more profilers, hired tech analysts, press liaisons, and we even got our own resident genius.”

“Thank you,” both Penelope and Spencer responded.

The auditorium erupted in laughter, myself included, and Spencer’s gaze whipped right to me. His jaw dropped slightly as his brain caught up with his eyes and I gave a little wave, feeling embarrassed. I saw his lips curve just a little bit and he raised two fingers from the podium, waving back.

“Irish statesman and author Edmund Burke once wrote: ‘The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.’ The job isn’t just what I do, it’s who I am,” Rossi continued.

The boy next to me shifted. “Is it worth it?”

“For every life we save?” Rossi replied, “Damn right it is.” 

The rest of the team echoed his statement, nodding. Spencer’s eyes were still on mine when he leaned into the mike. “I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.”

* * *

The team was immediately swarmed by undergrads when they stepped off stage. Emily and JJ had grouped together and, by the looks of it, were discussing self-defense strategies with a group of tiny-looking freshmen. Rossi had collected the faculty-types, even signing the few books forced into his hands. Morgan was surrounded by what looked like an entire sorority, trying not to look too pleased with himself. Only Hotch was left alone, presumably because he looked like he’d arrest anyone who tried to approach him. Even Spencer was surrounded by people, a mixture of what looked like stereotypical tech nerds and several starry eyed girls. I tried not to feel jealous, especially as he caught my eye, looking helpless. I shoved my way through the crowd.

“Hi, Dr. Reid,” I said, when I had pushed through the front, “Do you want to grab some coffee?”

He looked relieved, shoulders sagging. “That would be great.”

I took his hand, and pulled him back through the crowd. Several of the girls looked disappointed, one may have even started crying. I didn’t look back to check, just enjoying the feel of his hand in mine and also feeling slightly sick. I directed him back to the table of refreshments. It wasn’t much; just a tray or two of cookies, a sad excuse for a fruit bowl, and one giant carafe of coffee. I poured him a cup, topping it with milk, and sugar and handed it to him. He looked mildly surprised I knew his coffee order.

“What? You’re allowed to know mine, but I’m not allowed to know yours?” I asked, slyly. He had the decency to look embarrassed. I laughed, “It’s not that difficult. We have the same exact order.”

I prepared my own cup and sipped it, suddenly feeling awkward.

“So,” I started.

He rocked on his heels, giving me that tight smile I had come to realize he used whenever he was unsure of what to say.

“So you left kind of suddenly the other night,” I began again, examining my coffee.

“Yeah,” he replied, quietly. I snuck a glance up at him and was surprised to find him watching me, “I’m sorry about that.”

There was a beat or two of silence where, even though we were surrounded by people chattering, the silence pressed on my ears. I cleared my throat, but Spencer spoke first.

“Jemma,” he started, reaching out to briefly touch my elbow. My eyes met his brown ones, they looked sincere, but a little guarded. “I am sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

My heart rose and I smiled. He returned the favor, giving me that slow, sweet smile I had come to love. I was immediately thinking of options: dinner, movies, maybe even dancing.

“Garcia and I are going to ComiCon this weekend. There’s a big Dr. Who event tomorrow and we’re going dressed up as our favorite doctors.” He launched into an explanation of his favorite characters and attempted to teach me the lore.

I smiled and nodded, not really taking in any information. Don’t get me wrong, I was excited to have any reason to spend time with Spencer and I loved hanging out with Penelope, but with things as they were between me and him I really just wanted to sit down and talk it out. Maybe I had scared him away after Girls Night and we were doomed to float in this limbo between friends and something more. He trailed off, realizing I wasn’t paying attention, and when I focused back on his face he was no longer looking at me.

“You don’t have to go, if you don’t want to,” he murmured, tapping his fingers against the cup.

His voice shattered my heart and I felt like the world’s biggest asshole. “I’d love to come!” I heard myself exclaim and he looked up, smiling.

“Great!” He turned and waved Penelope over. She trotted over, looking curious. “Jemma is coming with us this weekend!”

Her face broke into a gigantic grin and she clapped her hands excitedly. “Yes! Jem you are staying with me tonight and I am going to find you an outfit to wear. We’re also going to have a Doctor Who marathon to get you caught up on  _ some _ of the characters you’ll be seeing tomorrow.”

She grabbed my hand and pulled me into conversation, names of characters and plot lines I couldn’t follow spewing out of her mouth. I snuck a glance back at Spencer. He was still by the refreshments table, looking confused.

* * *

“Ok, ok, the movie is in Hall H at 9:00. Can we go to that?” Penelope was power walking, Spencer trotting at her side. I had fallen slightly behind, silently amused at the entire situation.

“Absolutely. Do you think we can make it to the Captains of the Enterprise panel at 11:00?” Spencer replied, glancing back at me to make sure I was still there.

Penelope scoffed, “Obvs. Thank you both for coming with me.”

“You know, I was a little hesitant at first,” I chimed in, picking up speed and stepping in between them, “But after the 12th episode at 2:30 this morning I really started to understand why you guys enjoy the show so much.”

Penelope had committed to her promise; following me home so we could gather some clothes that fit the ‘Doctor Who Universe’ enough and helping me collect some things for Bruno as he would be staying with us as well. She had immediately queued up the first season of the reboot (an important difference she had briefed me on the entire evening) while she bustled around the kitchen popping us popcorn and preheating the oven for some pizza rolls. 

It had been a nice evening. Perhaps distracted by her own relationship issues, Penelope hadn’t bombarded me with requests for updates on my relationship with Spencer. She had worked all night, even pulling out a well loved sewing machine, to create a somewhat normal looking outfit she dubbed, “Bad Wolf Rose Tyler.” I didn’t understand the reference until around midnight when the episode finally began to play. When we met up with Spencer in the parking lot, that morning, I was satisfied to see his eyes widen, eyes scanning me from top to bottom. When he visibly swallowed, I risked a glance at Penelope. Her subtle smirk had me guessing she hadn’t completely forgotten about our relationship.

“I’ve been knitting this scarf for weeks,” Spencer said, brightly. He looked adorable in a curly brown wig and a wide brimmed hat. The scarf in question was massive and I couldn’t help imagining him curled in various corners of the plane, his office, and even his apartment knitting constantly. 

I wrapped my finger around one of the frayed edges. “Maybe you can knit me one of these sometime?”

His eyes met mine, crinkling as he smiled. For a moment things seemed almost normal between us, his hand reaching for mine. Then Penelope stopped and I smacked into the back of her. She was staring, stricken, at Kevin who was dressed in the same Doctor outfit as she was. Next to him stood a tall woman who looked just as surprised to see other people from the office.

“Kevin. Hi. You came.” She looked flustered, eyes fluttering. She turned to the woman standing next to him. “And you brought a friend. CSU technician Sharp, how are you?”

I wrapped my hand around Penelope’s. She gripped it like she had been thrown a life raft, squeezing so hard it was difficult not to make a sound. Oblivious, the new woman next to Kevin smiled. 

“Fine. You?” she responded. I decided I hated her.

Penelope nodded stiffly, her entire body tense.

“I am also fine,” she said, sounding robotic, “Ok, well, see ya.”

And she turned away from the expo, heading down the stairs. Realizing she needed a friend I quickly followed behind her. Spencer, Kevin, and Gina watched us looking dumbstruck.

“You’re not gonna go in?” Kevin called after her.

“No,” Penelope continued, sounding increasingly more panicked as she picked up speed down the stairs, “Actually, we just went in and it’s super lame, so we’re leaving.”

I turned back, catching Spencer’s eye and jerking my head, attempting to get him to follow us. He turned to look at the venue and then back at us, crestfallen. Finally he headed down the stairs after us.

“Uh, ok,” Kevin replied, sounding confused, “Great costume.”

“Yeah, you too,” Penelope finished, out of breath.

She stopped at the foot of the stairs, leaning against a concrete barrier, breathing hard. Spencer looked like he wanted to say something and by the looks of his face, it was not going to help Penelope’s mental state. I could tell he was still somewhat processing what had just happened. I tossed him a warning look and his mouth tightened into an apologetic line.

“Hey, it’s ok, you’re ok,” I whispered, rubbing her back as she took big gulps of air.

“I should have known he would be here,” she was saying more to herself than to us, “We used to come together every year. I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Spencer replied, finally realizing what was going on, “You’re Penelope freaking Garcia.”

I gave him an appreciative look and he smiled back at me. I turned back to Penelope, feeling relieved when I saw she had finally caught her breath. Perhaps we’d be able to salvage this day after all. She threw her head back, looking up into the sky to take a couple more deep breaths.

“I’ll be fine,” she said at last, throwing her hands up in a placating gesture, “I’m just going to grab some water. I’ll be right back.”

She turned towards a refreshment cart set up on the outskirts of the convention center block and Spencer and I were suddenly alone. His hat was starting to slide off the back of his head and he reached up to keep it in place. 

“You look great,” he murmured, blushing, “Bad Wolf, right?”

I nodded, looking down at myself. “That’s what Penelope said. I’m still kind of figuring out the whole storyline - we did watch the episode late last night so I wasn’t entirely following - but when Pen gave me the choice of this or a Weeping Angel I thought I’d go the easy route. Maybe I’ll try the more difficult costumes for my next ComiCon.”

A breeze wisped by, playing with the tendrils of my hair. After I had adamantly refused to wear a wig, Penelope had set to work on my hair; first, straightening with fancy salon-like precision, and then artfully crimping sections of it until I looked almost as artfully disheveled as Spencer usually did. However, in the morning air, I felt a little bit like a troll doll, my hair blowing into my face at the slightest gust of wind.

Spencer reached out, tucking the hair back behind my ear. His hand lingered on my cheek, his brown eyes searching my face. In the morning light they were more golden than brown and, even in full ComiCon cosplay, he took my breath away.

“Spence,” I whispered, unable to get my voice to work. I cleared my throat and tried again, “Spence, could we maybe talk sometime? About - about us?”

It was my turn to feel like I couldn’t breathe. The moment stretched long between us, though in reality it was probably only a few seconds. Spencer took a deep breath and nodded.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he replied at last and my lungs expanded as I sighed in relief, “Do you want to grab some dinner after the convention?”

Unable to stop myself from smiling, I nodded, feeling excited. He turned to look for Penelope as my phone started to buzz. I pulled it out from my bag, heart sinking when I saw Matt’s name across the top of the screen.

“Jemma!” He answered, sounding panicked, “I know it's your day off, but I need you to do something for me. I meant to drop off the bookstore’s latest earnings at the bank, but I was running late and left it in my apartment this morning. Would you be the best lifesaver in the entire world and pick that up and run it to the bank for me?”

I looked back at Spencer. Penelope had rejoined him, but he was watching me, looking concerned. I sighed, not wanting to leave, but knowing I was going to. Matt had supported me so many times I couldn’t just leave him hanging.

“Yeah, I can do that,” I replied, resigned. 

He blew a gust of air into the receiver, sighing in relief. “I owe you so many free books and coffee. Thank you so much.”

“Throw in a raise and I think I can forgive you,” I said, laughing.

He scoffed, still managing to be sassy even while stressed out. “Don’t hold your breath, honey. Let me know when you’ve dropped it off!”

I locked my screen and slowly turned back to the group, feeling guilty. It must have been obvious because I saw Spencer deflate slightly. Penelope frowned.

“What’s wrong?” she said, seeing right through my guilty smile.

“My boss needs me to run an errand for the bookstore,” I admitted. She pouted and Spencer began playing with the end of his scarf looking distraught. “It should only take an hour or two and then I’ll come right back and join you guys! I won’t even change!”

Penelope crossed her arms and, after a moment, Spencer mirrored her, attempting to bring humor back into the situation. 

“I suppose we’ll allow it,” Penelope replied at last, “But if you’re not back by the Enterprise panel there will be consequences.”

My eyes darted to Spencer’s and he smirked at me, nodding in agreement. I smiled at them both and quickly turned towards the nearest metro station.  _ First, Matt’s house. Then, Colonial Liberty Bank _ .

“I’ll be back before you know it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! I hope everyone is happy and healthy and safe wherever you are and that you are able to spend some time with your loved ones even if it has to be virtual. If you don't have anyone to celebrate with this year, know that I am with you in spirit. 
> 
> This chapter is my gift to you - it starts a small arc that I am very proud of. I'm sure you can guess where this is going...
> 
> I guess I'll see you all in 2021!


	16. Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma gets caught in a dangerous situation and Spencer is helpless to save her.

The bank was crowded when I got there, but the line moved relatively quickly as more bank tellers opened up their windows. Behind me I could hear the security guards waving people through the metal detector. Anxious, I glanced at my phone screen -  _ 10:15 _ . At this rate I would barely make it back before Penelope’s deadline.

“Next,” the woman behind the register pulled me out of my thoughts and I hurried forward to the counter.

“I’m just making a deposit for the Raven Bookstore account,” I explained in a rush, pulling out all necessary documents. She examined them and my driver’s license before typing the information in her computer and feeding the cash into a sorting machine. 

The whole transaction took about ten minutes and when she handed me my receipt, I was already dialing Matt and headed towards the back of the building, where I assumed there was a nearby metro station.

“It’s done,” I said, as I hurried down some stairs into what looked like an exit.

“Oh thank god,” he breathed, “Thank you so much.”

I cursed slightly under my breath. The stairs had not led to a station, leading instead to some currently closed offices and what looked like a janitor’s closet. I hurried back up the stairs and then I heard it - the sound of gunfire.

“Jem, what was that noise?” Matt asked, still on the phone. When I didn’t answer he tried again, raising his voice. “Jem?”

“Shhh!” I hissed, frozen on the steps, listening hard. 

Sure enough, gunfire erupted again followed by screams. From a distance, I heard sirens approaching. I sprinted back down the stairs and attempted to pull open the locked office doors. They didn’t budge. 

“Matt, I think there’s a robbery in progress,” I whispered into the phone, sounding a lot more put together than I felt. My heart pounded in my chest and my legs were beginning to shake as adrenaline flooded my body.

He sucked in a gulp of air, “Oh my god.”

“Matt, I have to go,” I said, crouching next to the stairway, still listening hard. He began to protest, but I cut him off, “They don’t know I’m here. I can hear sirens outside, but I need to hear what’s going on.”

There was a beat or two of silence where I could hear him breathing, upstairs the noise had quieted. Occasionally I could hear the raised voices of a man or a woman, but for the time being I was alone.

“Fine,” he said at last, sounding panicked, “But, when you can, please try to stay in contact.”

“I will,” I replied. I thought about saying something more - thanking him for being such a great friend, telling him that I loved him - but the moment passed and we ended the call in silence. I hoped I hadn’t just missed my last opportunity to share those sentiments with him. 

Still crouching behind the stairwell, I typed a quick message to Spencer.

JH: In bank. Need help.

The sound of footsteps was so quiet that, at first, I didn’t register what I was hearing. Then I heard the rattle of plastic and metal as whoever it was cocked their gun, humming absently. I held my breath, risking a glance over the stairs to catch a glimpse of them. She was sauntering down the stairs looking almost bored. If it wasn’t for the self-satisfied smirk on her red lips I would have thought she had been forced to patrol the bank, but something about the way she examined the janitor’s closet and the wall alongside it made me think she had some ulterior motive. She turned back towards the stair, facing me, and I ducked back down, heart pounding. One second creeped by and then another, and finally I heard her head back up the stairs. As she rounded the corner she called back to her accomplice.

“There’s no escape route down here,” she yelled, but I knew that was not what she was looking for.

* * *

Spencer was scanning files as fast as he could read them when he got her message. He and Penelope had arrived back in the office not long after Hotch had called, gathering the team together. They shed their wigs and costumes quickly, convening in the briefing room to begin reviewing the case before the team split off - Spencer and Kevin remaining behind to sift through other case files that might help.

JH: In bank. Need help.

His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach the second he made the connection in his brain.  _ No. Not that bank. Not Jemma. _ He surged to his feet, not entirely sure what his plan was yet. All he knew was that he needed to get back there, he needed to find Jemma. Kevin looked up in surprise.

“What are you doing?”

“She’s there,” was all Spencer could say, “She’s in the building with them. I have to get her.”

Kevin snagged his sleeve before Spencer could sprint away. He pulled him back towards the briefing table, not even bothering to ask him who ‘she’ was.

“There are all kinds of cops and FBI agents out there right now,” Kevin said, fiercely, “The best way we can help everyone in that bank is to keep working.”

Spencer opened his mouth to angrily retort, but something about Kevin’s expression made him stop. Fuming, he sat back down and began flipping through the files again trying not to look at his phone.  _ In bank. Need help. _ That could mean anything, and he was stuck here with no way to get to her. Anxiously, he examined the feed of the inside of the bank - somehow still up and running. It was grainy and in black and white, but he was pretty sure she wasn’t one of the hostages being used as human shields. Wherever she was he hoped she stayed there and stayed hidden.

* * *

Unable to sit still, I had crawled slowly back up the stairs on my belly, listening for any sudden movement to indicate the woman was headed back in my direction. The man was yelling at someone on the phone - a hostage negotiator I assumed. He had been screaming for a doctor. His brother had been shot in the gut by a cop as they had attempted to escape and was bleeding out on the floor of the lobby. If I wasn’t so terrified I would have been viciously satisfied. The person on the other line wasn’t being helpful enough, it seemed, as the man began yelling into the receiver again.

“Listen here, Agent Rossi,” he sneered, and my heart lifted. _ They’re here. _ “If my brother dies in this bank I will start shooting people. Now you get me a doctor and you get me one  _ now. _ ”

He slammed the phone down on the receiver and began pacing, prowling like a tiger. The woman was pacing too, but her steps were softer, more calculated, less stressed. It was obvious even to me that she was reveling in the chaos, inhaling the palpable fear around her like it was some sort of fountain of youth. 

“You need to calm down,” she hissed at him, “We’re going to get out of here.”

He ran a hand across the bristles on his scalp, stopping briefly to check on his brother. “How? How are we going to do that? We’re surrounded by cops and the feds are here. No backdoors, no surprises. How is that working out for you?”

She didn’t answer, surveying him with a calculating stare. I ducked further behind the corner, suddenly terrified she would see me. Rotating as silently as I could, I scrunched further into my hiding place, back against the wall, knees against my chest. I closed my eyes for a moment, allowing myself to panic for a quick second before I took a quick breath. When I opened my eyes again I thought maybe I had begun to hallucinate. In a dark hallway I hadn’t noticed at first, an older woman was beckoning me towards her. She placed one bony finger on her lips, pointing towards the chaos only a few feet away and then beckoned me again.

I peered around the corner again, the man was bent over his brother again, his back to me. I couldn’t see the woman and that more than anything set my heart pounding. Obviously both of them were dangerous, but something about her felt feral. I held my breath, inching further out to sneak a glance at the back of the bank where the teller stations were. She was there, leaning against the counters like she was waiting on a transaction to complete. She still had her gun in her arms, but she looked relaxed. Her head was turned away, but I was frozen in place. I could make a run for it, but if she caught a glimpse of me that would be it. Not only would I reveal myself, but I’d risk exposing the older woman as well. Across the way, the old woman beckoned me again and I put up one finger as I waited for the right moment.

Finally, the woman bank robber moved, striding decisively across the lobby floor to a woman cradling a softly whimpering baby.

“If you don’t shut that thing up I will,” she snarled, hoisting her gun up, “Permanently.”

Seeing my chance, I scrambled to my feet and sprinted across the gap as quietly as I could. I hated myself for not being able to do anything, but the old woman put a comforting hand on my shoulder as we paused, listening for any indication I had been seen. When there was nothing, we continued down the hall and into a shadowed alcove where an older gentleman was waiting, sitting on the floor.

“You’ll be safe here,” she whispered to me, though how she knew that I had no clue. We crouched next to the man and I watched her put a wrinkled hand to his face. 

“Is he ok?” I murmured back. He looked a little pale, but that easily could have been because of the situation we were in.

“He has heart problems,” she responded, sounding a little worried, “This kind of stress isn’t good for him.”

“Marie, I’m fine,” he responded at last, patting her hand and giving her a comforting smile. He spared a glance at me, “Don’t worry about me. You just stay low and quiet.”

Marie smiled at him, still looking concerned, and then eased herself gently to the floor. Down the hall we could hear the man yelling again - perhaps Rossi had called back with more information, hopefully the man’s brother hadn’t died. Beside me Marie and her husband were holding hands and I thought I could hear Marie murmuring scripture next to me.

“We’re going to be ok,” I whispered to them, hoping if I kept saying it it would come true. “I know the team in charge of hostage negotiation. They’ll do everything they can to get us out safely.”

Marie smiled at me, reaching up her free hand to pat me on the cheek, but she didn’t respond. I could see her hand tighten on her husband’s and she fell back to whispering scripture again. I heard the footsteps of the female bank robber and placed a panicked finger to my lips. Marie fell silent and we held our breath as we heard the woman stalk past our hallway and back down the stairs. From the lobby we heard the front doors open and the woman’s footsteps returned, moving quickly so she could be back in the action.

It must have been the paramedic, as we heard him call out to the man’s brother, who didn’t answer. After a moment of anguished silence the bank erupted with the noise of several gunshots and Marie’s other hand leapt to mine, squeezing hard. Beside her, Marie’s husband breathed hard and I sent a prayer to whatever god listening for a way out.

* * *

The paramedic was dead. Spencer couldn’t sit still any longer.

“I should be there. We’ve learned everything we can from here,” he said, loping away from the briefing room, Kevin quick at his heels. 

They weren’t too far from the block where the bank was located, but law enforcement had cordoned off so much of the street that it took longer than usual to get there. Spencer tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, feeling out of control. He hit the gas as soon as the officer waved him through and screeched to a halt right next to the FBI intelligence van. Not even bothering to turn the car off, he unbuckled and practically catapulted himself out from behind the wheel. Kevin quickly made his way into the van where Penelope was running point. Spencer found Hotch nearby grouped together with Rossi, Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Will. 

“What’s going on?” Spencer asked, examining the glass windows of the bank across from him. In the midday light they were impossible to see through - maybe occasionally a glimpse of a frightened hostage or the shadowed movements of the unsubs - but he knew Jemma was in there somewhere. If Hotch was surprised he was there and not still back in Quantico, he didn’t say anything.

“The brother just died. The male unsub - Chris Stratton - just shot our paramedic when he reached for his gun.” Hotch looked slightly uncomfortable, glancing at JJ and Will who were in hot debate. “He’s asking for Will now.”

“Will?” Spencer asked, looking confused.

Will stepped away from JJ who still looked like she wanted to argue. “I shot his brother. It’s my fault he’s dead.”

“If you go in there he will  _ kill _ you,” JJ retorted, hotly, “You cannot go in there.”

“You won’t have to,” Hotch responded, placing his phone to his ear, “I’m ordering a strike team.”

JJ heaved a sigh of relief and Will sagged against the side of the police car, his hands on his thighs. Spencer exchanged a glance with Hotch, who looked like he was x-raying him, his eyes narrowing.

“Jemma’s in there,” Spencer said at last, feeling the panic creep up his throat, “I don’t know where, but she’s in there.”

Lips tight, Hotch nodded once and stepped away, talking softly into his phone. Morgan, up until now quietly surveying the situation with Emily, was staring at Spencer.

“Kid -,” he started.

“I don’t want to hear it, Morgan,” Spencer interrupted, “She has to be ok.”

Will stood and squared his shoulders. Without a second glance at the team around him or even his girlfriend, a few steps away momentarily distracted, he turned and walked straight towards the front door. JJ realized seconds later and took several hurried steps towards him, breaking into a run. Morgan and Emily caught her, holding her back behind the police car as she screamed, her voice breaking.

Spencer couldn’t move, watching Will pull open the glass doors, arms raised. JJ broke into sobs, leaning heavily against Morgan and Emily and Spencer reached one hand out for her, silently wishing he could follow Will into the belly of the beast.

* * *

“I have to see what’s going on,” I whispered to Marie, pulling myself to my feet, crouching low. She gripped my wrist, silently imploring me to stay, but I gently pulled her hand away and attempted to pat it in reassurance. 

It had been quiet for too long. After the gunshots had died down and the hostages had stopped screaming, the only noise we could hear were the quiet sounds of men, women, and children crying softly in fear and soft discussion between the remaining two bank robbers. Rossi had attempted to call them back, but after the man demanded a plane, a clear flight path to Chad and the officer who had shot his brother, he had let loose another barrage of bullets on, I assumed, the phone.

I made my way slowly down the hall, bent low. The woman bank robber had passed by a couple more times, still in search of something, but now she remained in the lobby, snipping at her accomplice as he slowly lost control. I peered around the corner when the door opened again and I had to slap a hand over my mouth to stop myself from gasping aloud.

_ Will _ . 

Looking somehow calm, Will surveyed the room, taking note of the hostages. I leaned further out of my shadowed corner and his eyes snapped to me. A moment of confusion crossed his features as he attempted to place me and then recognition set in. I ducked back into the shadows as the man turned to see what Will was looking at. When he didn’t see anything he shrugged and turned back to Will.

“Well, I’m here,” Will said, raising his arms slightly, “Why don’t you let these people go?”

The man surveyed him quietly and exchanged a glance with the woman, who smirked.

“You know,  _ officer, _ ” he mocked, “I don’t think I will.”

And he raised his gun, releasing a spray of bullets.

* * *

JJ was staring into space, her glassy eyes wide and unseeing. She had crashed into the surveillance van the second the video feed went dead, immediately clinging to Penelope.

“Did you see where he got shot? Penelope, tell me,  _ did you see where he got shot?” _ she exclaimed, her voice rising in panic.

Penelope had sputtered, tears in her eyes, and Morgan had pulled JJ away. He had sat her against the wall of the van where she remained, retreating within herself, tears not even falling from her lashes. Wordlessly, Spencer stepped away from the rest of the team and took a seat next to her. He held out his hand and she took it; the two of them united in their fear.

“We need to figure out where she kept disappearing to,” Hotch was saying, now replaying the footage they had collected, “She knew when she entered the building that there were no other exits. What was she looking for?”

An officer pulled open the door, out of breath.

“Hostages are coming out now,” he said, before turning and heading back to the chaos.

Spencer was out of his chair and down the steps in seconds. He squinted in the bright light, scanning each face as they hurried out of the building. She wasn’t there. He felt the heavy weight of someone’s hand on his shoulder and when he turned it was Rossi who was grimacing slightly at him.

“She could still be in there, kid. She could still be ok,” he murmured, but Spencer shrugged his hand off and began pacing, his mind reeling.

“We’re sending the strike team in now,” Strauss was saying, pulling her phone away from her ear. A few feet away, a heavily armored team of SWAT operatives grouped together.

“I’m coming too,” Spencer said at the same time JJ emerged from the van echoing the same sentiment. 

Hotch shook his head, “No, you two are too close to this. We’ll make sure Will and Jemma are in good hands, I promise. Reid, I need you to focus on the woman - what was she doing, what was she looking for, what are her motivations?”

Spencer began pacing again, chewing his lip. He watched the SWAT team gather, heading first into the building - Morgan, Emily, and Hotch crouching behind them, guns drawn. In his mind's eye he reviewed the schematics of the building, feeling as though he was getting close to an answer and his unease grew. JJ, unable to watch from the sidelines, drew her gun and ducked under Rossi’s arm, taking off after the group before he could stop her.

“The gas lines. She’s going after the gas lines,” Spencer murmured, realization hitting him suddenly. He turned to Rossi, manning the walkie talkie, “We need to abort the mission.”

Rossi immediately leapt into action, screaming into the walkie talkie, but it was too late. The windows expanded as it filled to the brim with gas and then everything combusted, glass shattering everywhere. The team, halfway inside the building, split, some lost in the rubble inside and some showered with debris outside. Spencer felt his knees buckle and Rossi caught him around the middle before he hit the ground.

_ In bank. Help me. _ He had done all he could. It hadn’t been enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! 2020 had one more Everything chapter in it! In reality, we're spending New Years Eve with some friends (who have all been quarantining just like we have) and there's a pretty good chance that we'll get snowed in over the weekend so I wanted to post this chapter a little early just so you guys don't have to wait extra long for a chapter!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you all next week for the resolution of Hit & Run!


	17. Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer searches for Jemma in the ruins of the Colonial Liberty Bank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just updated my [ Tumblr ](https://mslouhoo322.tumblr.com/) aesthetic and opened up my inbox so if you haven't already and you want to go ahead and follow me over there! Also, I've spent the majority of the 8 days so far of 2021 designing and cultivating [ Spotify ](https://open.spotify.com/user/1245743519?si=krAdPVcWQr232ciwBWCgCA) playlists sooooo you should follow me over there as well. There's no Everything playlist yet, but - who knows - maybe someday there will be!

Everything was a jumbled mess, dust floating from the sky like snow. The half of the team that remained outside was slowly collecting itself - some officers were sitting up dazed, some weren’t moving at all. Morgan had leapt to his feet moments after the blast, helping pull officers away from the debris. He was kneeling in front of JJ, hands cradling her face. Spencer regained his footing and hurried forward.

“Is she ok?” he asked when he got close enough.

Morgan nodded, not looking up. “Shock, I think.”

Hotch crossed behind him, his ear bleeding, but otherwise unharmed. He was already back in control, pointing several more teams of heavily armed officers into the ruin. Rossi passed him quickly on his way to his next point, pausing only to plead with him to get his ear checked. Emily was nowhere to be found. Spencer stood amongst the chaos for one quiet moment, taking in everything. No one was paying attention to him. No one was telling him where to go. He quickly drew his gun and stalked into the dark opening of the building.

“Jemma?!” he yelled, pointing his pistol into the darkness. He could hear the yells of the other officers, calling for any other survivors. “Emily?!”

He moved slowly, eyes adjusting to the lack of light. The bank was a ruin, but luckily it didn’t look like there had been any casualties inside, all the hostages having been released before the explosion. The dust was still settling and he coughed.

“Jemma?!” he tried again, “Emily?!”

“Here!” someone called out and he rushed forward, almost tripping over debris in his hurry to be there. He ducked into a partially collapsed hallway where he found Emily, crouched by an older couple. She tossed him an extra flashlight, flinching when he accidentally shined it in her eyes, “They hid back here when they started shooting. He’s unconscious, but I think she’s ok.”

The woman’s eyes cracked open, head lolling towards Spencer. 

“There was -,” she started, her hand reaching for the man’s, “There was another girl.”

His stomach twisted and he dropped into a crouch next to her, holstering his gun and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. He tried to ignore the fact that his fingers were trembling.

“There was someone else?” He answered, and she nodded slowly, “Where did she go?”

The woman groaned, her eyes closing. Spencer felt his throat constrict and his eyes began to prickle as the stress and emotion of the day began to overwhelm him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Ma’am,” he began, speaking low to keep his voice from shaking, “Where did she go?”

There was another beat of silence, Spencer clenched his fist, his nails biting into the palm of his hand. Emily was watching him anxiously, her eyes wide. He refused to look at her, tamping down another wave of emotion. Finally, the woman began to speak again, she pointed back out where he had come from.

“She was - she was -,” she swallowed, her mouth dry from the dust and debris, “She was following after the robbers. Said they had taken another friend of hers hostage. A cop.”

_ Will _ . Spencer stood, glancing at Emily. She didn’t say anything, just nodding. She would remain here until help came. It was up to him now. Without a word, he turned on his heel, pulling his gun out again and continuing deeper into the bank.

“Jemma?!” he called again, feeling more panicked the deeper he went into the building. The blast had to have originated somewhere around here and the closer she was to it the less likely... _ no _ . He closed his eyes tightly, stopping the tears before they could slip down his cheeks.  _ This is not how this is supposed to end _ . “Jemma?!”

His voice broke and he had to stop, bending at the waist, hands on his knees, breathing hard as his brimming panic attack began to bubble over.

“S-Spence?” The sound was so quiet he almost missed it. 

He straightened, holding his breath and scanning the scene around him.  _ There _ \- barely discernible in the dusty air, he saw her propped against the half-wall lining the entrance to the stairs.

“Jem -,” he choked out, rushing to her.

She looked dazed, a bruise blooming on her right cheek and her lip bleeding. He fell to his knees next to her, gently cupping her face to look at him. Her pupils were both the same size so he wasn’t too worried about a concussion, though her eyes were unfocused. He scanned the rest of her body, checking for broken bones or gaping wounds, but for the most part she looked unharmed. 

“Spence, you came,” she murmured, weakly. She lifted one arm to cup his face, swiping her thumb across his cheek. He hadn’t even realized he had been crying until she gave a weak chuckle. “Are you crying?”

He let out a wet laugh. “No,” he said, obviously lying, “Why would I do that? It’s not like I thought you were dead or anything.”

She closed her eyes, chuckling softly. “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” she responded, “You still owe me dinner and a dance.”

“I will give you a hundred dinners and a thousand dances once we’re out of here, ok?”

She was beginning to sag, losing consciousness. Panic rising in his throat again, Spencer tried gently shaking her shoulder, but she didn’t answer. He looked frantically back where he had come, but he couldn’t hear anyone else in the building around him. How long would it be before the paramedics even got here? He turned back to Jemma, conflicted. She was slumped further down the wall, chin on her chest, and he made up his mind. Fuck the consequences, if he waited until someone came to them it might be too late. 

He holstered his gun again and gathered her to him. He tucked Jemma’s head against his neck, looping one arm under her back and the other under her knees and lifted. He had never been the type of guy to carry a beautiful woman to safety - usually it was Morgan who did that - but this was Jemma. He wouldn’t - he couldn’t - leave her behind. Adrenaline surging through his veins he carried her back through the lobby and out into the sunlight, staggering as the bright light and fresh air hit his face. Paramedics swarmed him at once, pulling Jemma out of his arms and loading her onto a gurney. He protested weakly, not wanting to let her go, but Hotch was there, pulling him back.

“Reid, they’ve got her,” he murmured to him, “You did good. She’s in good hands.” 

JJ was sitting in the open door of an ambulance, swatting away paramedics as they attempted to check her. When she spotted Spencer she stood, racing over to him.

“Spence, I have to know,” she said, sounding desperate, “Did you see him? Did you -,” her voice caught, “did you see Will’s body?”

He shook his head, still keeping an eye on the ambulance Jemma was being loaded into, and JJ’s eyes brimmed with tears. She sobbed once and put a hand over her mouth to stop another from escaping. He turned suddenly back to her.

“Jemma saw Will,” he replied, memory suddenly catching up with him, “She was hiding with another couple and saw the unsubs taking Will somewhere. She was following them when the blast went off. He’s still alive.”

Tears were flowing freely down her face now and she threw her arms around his neck, squeezing once before heading back to the van where Penelope was still working. He looked back at the ambulance and made a sudden decision, loping towards it before the doors shut.

“I’m coming with you,” he said, planting himself next to Jemma and reaching for her hand.

He turned to look back at the chaos and made eye contact with Hotch, still directing teams around the site and giving orders over the phone. For one moment Spencer wondered if Hotch was going to try and force him out of the ambulance, but then Hotch nodded and turned back to the scene. Then the doors were shut and they were screaming down the street.

* * *

Everything hurt when I woke and I couldn’t entirely remember why. I racked my brain trying to recall my last memory and it came back in pieces. They had shot Will, but had allowed some of the hostages to bandage him. The woman had disappeared again and Will had gotten into the other man’s head, leading him away from the hostages and allowing them to escape. Then they had taken him away and I had followed, attempting to come up with a plan as I went. After that there was just darkness and pain.

I groaned and cracked my eyes open. I raised my hand to my face and was surprised to find an IV attached to it. It took a second for my eyes to focus on my surroundings. A hospital room; I was in a hospital room. There were several bouquets of flowers decorating my windowsill and one giant teddy bear on the table next to me -  _ how long had I been out _ ? I attempted to sit up, but my entire body protested and I hissed in pain. It was then I realized I was not alone.

Spencer had obviously found the only chair in the room and had scooted it as close as he possibly could to my bedside. He had his hand clutched tightly around mine; it was a wonder I hadn’t immediately registered it when I woke. He had apparently fallen asleep while keeping watch over me, slumping onto the bed, his head resting against my thigh. More of my memory returned in patches - his gentle hands against my face, the tears in his eyes, his sudden strength literally lifting me to safety - and I felt tears gather in the corner of my eyes. He began to stir, raising his free hand to rub at one of his eyes. Our eyes met and I gave him a crooked smile.

“Hi, stranger,” I croaked.

He launched himself out of his chair, nearly knocking it backwards. Leaning over me, his hands fluttered around my face, unsure if he could touch me. Finally his hands curved around my cheeks so gently I could barely feel it. His smile was so big it took up most of his face and I could see his eyes brimming with tears. I raised my hands to him, cupping his face as well and wiping the tears away.

“I really gotta stop making you cry,” I replied, attempting a joke. Somehow he actually laughed.

“I’m so glad you’re ok,” he murmured, his voice tight with emotion.

“Me too,” I admitted, trailing my fingers around his face thankful I was still able to do so. I tucked a stray curl behind his ear and skimmed my thumb across his bottom lip. He ducked his head, placing a gentle kiss on the pad of my finger. “Did you get them? Did you save Will?”

He nodded, turning briefly away so he could locate his chair and scoot it closer to me. He had pulled his hands away from my face, but, instead, gripped my hand between his own.

“JJ and Rossi tracked down the woman - she attempted to hold Henry hostage, but JJ beat her up.” I felt my eyes widen, impressed. It wasn’t all that surprising; JJ already looked like she could kick anyone’s ass. Add that on top of a mother’s strength and it was a near lethal combo. Spencer continued, refusing to look away from me, “Hotch, Emily, and Morgan hunted down her accomplice. She was actually working with another man who was posing as one of the hostages.”

I frowned, disgusted. Spencer waved one hand dismissively.

“But that doesn’t matter,” he said with finality, “How are you feeling?”

I took a mental inventory of my body. “Well, I feel a little like I survived a bombing,” I said at last and Spencer let out a humorless laugh. 

We fell silent, watching each other, and I could feel my throat tighten as a wave of emotion overcame me. I felt the first tear slip down the side of my face, heading towards my pillow, and this time it was Spencer who swept a thumb across my cheek, wiping it away.

“I thought I wasn’t going to see you again,” I whispered as Spencer blurred in front of me, “I was so scared I wasn’t going to see you smile at me again.”

He stood again and bent over me, wrapping me in a hug as best he could. I allowed a sob or two to escape, my hands clutching at the sweater on his back. He took several gulps of air, his breath hitching, and when he pulled back he didn’t pull completely away. He rested his forehead against mine, hands back around my cheeks.

“I’m here now,” he murmured, his watery golden eyes gazing directly into mine, “And I’m not going anywhere.”

I let out another sob, a happy one this time, and placed a hand on his cheek, pulling him to me. He kissed me gingerly, obviously afraid of hurting me, but in that moment I wanted to feel  _ something _ . He attempted to pull away and I followed him upward, capturing his mouth with mine again, pulling him back down towards me. He ran a hand over my ratted hair, finally sinking into me and kissing me deeply. Then his fingers hit my cheekbone and I pulled away hissing in pain.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” he exclaimed immediately, reeling back, his hands up in a placating gesture.

I ran my fingers over my swollen cheek, wincing at the sting. I shook my head at him and held out my hand. He gazed at me a second before smiling that slow, sweet smile at me and lacing his hand with mine.

“Don’t be,” I said, at last, “It was kind of my fault.”

He laughed, sitting down again and ducking his head to examine our joined hands, a blush dusting across his cheeks. I took another look at gifts I had collected while I had been out.

“Hey, was I out of commission for a long time?” I asked.

Spencer shook his head, looking concerned. “No, why?”

“Because I have the whole floral department in here with me.” I squeezed his hand, winking at him. “Did you get me flowers?”

He laughed again, his eyes crinkling. “I wish I could say I did, but no. These are all from Penelope.”

“Ah,” I replied, examining the giant teddy bear more closely. It was a pink monstrosity holding a red heart that read ‘Get Well Soon!’ in its arms, “That sounds about right.”

“You’re awake!” As if on cue, Penelope poked her head around the corner of the door and then trotted in, still in her Doctor Who gear.

She stepped around the other side of my hospital bed, and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. When she pulled back, her eyes immediately fell upon my hand, still laced with Spencer’s on top of the bedsheets. Her entire face lit up with delight, and she clapped her hands in amusement, grinning giddily at us.

“Oh, finally!” She squealed, “I’ve been waiting for you two to get together officially  _ for months _ .”

Spencer and I exchanged amused looks and Penelope’s face suddenly fell.

“Oh my god,  _ you still haven’t talked about it _ ?” She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and perched herself at the foot of my bed, “Look, we all know you guys are crazy about each other.  _ Just date already. _ ”

Spencer laughed and turned to me, an amused and expectant look on his face. I sighed in mock exhaustion and shrugged.

“I suppose we should give the people what they want,” I replied.

Spencer grinned, pulling our connected hands to his mouth and kissing the back of my hand. Penelope sighed in relief, collapsing fully onto my bed as though we had completely sapped her energy.

“Today has been one for the record books in affairs of the heart,” she sighed, sounding wistful. 

“How so?” Spencer asked, leaning forward.

“You haven’t heard?!”

“Well,” Spencer snuck a glance at me out of the corner of his eye, “I’ve kind of been here the entire time.”

Penelope took a moment to scrunch her nose at us, reveling in our ‘utter adorableness,’ before continuing

“JJ and Will are getting married  _ finally _ . Rossi’s hosting it at his house tomorrow and JJ doesn’t know yet.” She held out a hand as I opened my mouth to ask questions. “I mean JJ knows about getting married to Will. She just assumes it will be on Monday at a courthouse.”

Each member of the team stopped by my room to wish me a speedy recovery. JJ and Will visited together, their hands linked. JJ placed a hand on Spencer’s shoulder and they shared a moment, smiling at each other’s good fortune, before she leaned forward to squeeze my hand. Will looked positively radiant for a man who had spent most of the day shot or fearing for his family’s life. Finally, Matt and Amy snuck into the hospital room right before visiting hours ended. Matt had aged about ten years, his face drawn and white, as he gathered me into his arms.

“I thought you were gone,” he wailed as I attempted to comfort him. He turned to Spencer and pulled him into a handshake, wringing his hand, “You saved her life. I love you. You are amazing.”

Spencer accepted the thanks, bewildered, but my heart swelled and I couldn’t stop the smile growing across my face. Amy added another bouquet to my growing collection on the windowsill, promising she would cover any and every shift I wanted while I was recovering. Then visiting hours were over and a nurse came in to shoo everyone out.

“Even you, Doctor,” she said, pointing at Spencer.

Spencer’s lips tightened and he shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The nurse planted her hands on her hips, glancing at me. I shrugged and squeezed Spencer’s hand.

“He’s with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to 2021 friends! Hopefully this year will be a little bit better after this week. I hope you all forgive me for causing Spencer psychological stress. 
> 
> So I finally finished Criminal Minds and I am an emotional wreck. Honestly Seasons 13-15 were a bit of a mess, but it's still the end of an era. Spencer Reid was as adorable as always so I can't complain too much though I wish they hadn't brought Maeve back. I guess the only thing left to do is to start over, right?
> 
> Also, is it bad that I already have an idea on the next book in the series and I'm not even done writing this book? I think 2021 has some good things in store for us. Happy Friday!


	18. Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JJ and Will finally get married...

They released me from the hospital early Sunday morning. Spencer seemed totally prepared to not only help me home, but to stay there for any kind of help I may need. I took one look at him; clothes wrinkled, swaying slightly on his feet, and practically forced him back out of my front door.

“At least go home to shower,” I said, “I will see you at Rossi’s tonight, I promise.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but finally agreed to go when I promised him I would keep him updated on my progress, right down to the minute I arrived on Rossi’s doorstep. He wasn’t even gone thirty seconds before I got my first message.

SR: Still doing ok?

I rolled my eyes, sending him the corresponding emoji, and headed upstairs to clean myself up.

* * *

The water had felt like heaven and I stepped out of the shower feeling like a brand new person; the dust and grime of the bank gone and the smell of the hospital finally out of my hair. I ran my hand through the damp strands, grimacing at my face in the mirror. All in all, the damage wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but I still scared myself a little. The bruise on my cheek had further bloomed up the side of my face and into my cheekbone, giving me a brilliant black eye. The split on my lip had closed, but I could still see the bright red line and I wondered if I would be able to put lipstick on to cover it.

I suddenly heard the doorbell ring and Bruno took off down the stairs, yapping loudly. Spencer had just sent me a text confirming he had made it home ok, so I was confused as to who would be coming to visit. Bruno spun in circles, still barking, as I leaned forward to peer through the peephole.

“Amy!” I exclaimed, pulling the door open, trying not to sound too confused, “What are you doing here?”

Amy looked sheepish, comfy in an oversized sweatshirt and leggings, her giant bag slung over her arm. “Matt said you were getting out of the hospital today and I just wanted to check and see how you were doing. He gave me your address. I promise I’m not stalking you or anything.”

I laughed and welcomed her inside. Bruno sniffed at her feet for a few seconds, barking up at her, and then he took off into the living room away from us. Amy pulled me into a hug, leaning back to examine me.

“Ouch, what a shiner,” she winced, barely touching the bruise below my eye.

I rolled my eyes, “I know. I’m supposed to meet up with Spencer and his team later tonight and I don’t know how to not look scary.”

Amy smiled a feral-looking smile and for a moment I was a little apprehensive. “I think I can help with that! Let me help you get ready?”

Her smile still looked a little predatory, but the excitement in her voice eased my nerves.  _ You just survived a bank robbery and bombing. You’re just a little jumpy. _ Laughing away my unease, I nodded and she followed me back upstairs.

“So I’m guessing you and Spencer worked everything out,” she asked, lounging across my bed, surveying me as I tossed dress after dress out of my closet. 

“Yeah, something about almost dying just really brings people together,” I said, absentmindedly. I heard her laugh and then the quiet sound of her socked feet hitting the ground as she stepped forward to join me. 

“Well then we need to make you look utterly flawless,” she said simply and she gently pushed me out of the way, taking my spot in the closet. Bemused, I took her spot at the foot of the bed. When I fell silent she stopped, turning to look back at me, “Well, tell me all about it! I’m invested in this relationship now.”

I chuckled at her and launched into my story, telling her about everything from the bank robbery to waking up at the hospital with Spencer next to me. She cooed and sighed at all the right moments and even squealed when I told her we had finally made things official. She continued to sift through my closet before she let out a holler of delight and when she turned she had a dress I had completely forgotten I owned in her arms. It was purple lace on top of a nude slip and would fall just above my knees. Amy hugged it tight to her body, squealing.

“This will be perfect!” She said, tossing it to me, “Here, put this on and I’ll get everything set up for hair and make up.”

Bemused, I followed her instructions, slipping into the bathroom, feeling a growing elation and excitement in my stomach. It had been a long time since I had had a night like this, preparing for a night out with a friend. Once I had slipped the fabric over my body, I snuck a glance in the mirror. My bruises still stood out starkly against my skin, but I still felt beautiful. Amy poked her head into the bathroom and wolf whistled.

“Spencie won’t even know what hit him,” she said, winking.

Laughing, I turned back to her. “Spencie?”

She shrugged, winking at me. “Come on. Let’s complete the look.”

* * *

I could hear the party in full gear even from Rossi’s front door. The door was unlocked, so I let myself in, barely missing two young boys as they zoomed by me. Chuckling, I followed after them, rounding the corner to find Hotch and Emily deep in conversation. Emily looked a little distraught, but her face lit up when she caught sight of me.

“Jemma!” she exclaimed, rushing forward to wrap her arms around me, “You look amazing!”

I stepped back, looking down at myself as though I were Cinderella at the stroke of midnight expecting to have turned back into a pumpkin. Amy had done magic, curling my hair to perfection and managing to hide my brilliant black eye under a light dusting of foundation and powder. When I had left my apartment, Amy trailing behind me until we split at her metro stop, I had felt like a million bucks and my heart pounded in excitement to see Spencer. 

“Thank you!” I replied, pulling back to look at her. She looked utterly amazing in a tight floral dress and nude heels. “I love your dress!”

Hotch sipped at his champagne, snagging a flute from a passing waiter (apparently Rossi was pulling out  _ all _ the stops for this home wedding), and handed it to me.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing alright,” he said simply, tapping his glass against mine.

I nodded at him, feeling my heart swell for him and his team. I completely understood why Spencer was so fond of his job. It was clear, even to me, that I had stumbled upon a family and I felt so completely touched and honored that they had accepted me into their fold.

“Thank you for everything you and your team did,” I murmured back, embarrassed at how tight my throat had gotten.

Hotch’s lips thinned in a tight smile as his profiler instincts caught my emotion. He patted me on the shoulder and Emily wrapped an arm around me for a tight squeeze. We chatted a little, steering clear from any job talk, until Derek stepped into the room.

“Rossi’s saying we need to head out to the backyard,” he explained, “JJ is about to come down with her mom and we need to be in place.”

He caught sight of me and his entire face lit up.

“Jemma!” He took two quick steps towards me, gathering me into his arms. “Damn girl, you clean up nice. Has the Doc seen you yet?”

“Not yet,” I responded, smiling slyly. Behind me, Emily and Hotch were chuckling. “I was kind of trying to surprise him.”

Derek laughed, tossing his head back, his eyes closed. “You are going to break his brain.”

Wrapping an arm around my shoulders, he steered me towards the backyard. When we stepped outside I felt my breath catch. Rossi really hadn’t spared any expense. The space where we had once sat at one table had been completely redone, new tables giving us extra space for the significant others and children. The fairy lights were still criss crossed across the tops of his patio setting, but the tables had been arranged in a square and were artfully decorated. The backyard, darkened and unused the last time, was decorated with beautiful lanterns and more fairy lights. There was a fairly big dance floor laid out in the middle of the space, with an arch at the far end of it. There were a lot more people than I expected, but I realized that quite a few were waiters, passing around trays of more champagne and  hors d'oeuvres .

Drawn to him like a moth to flame, I found Spencer a little away from the rest of the crowd. He was crouched, his back to me, talking animatedly to a pair of boys I assumed were Hotch’s son, Jack, and Spencer’s godson, Henry. Not wanting to interrupt, I hung back, still tucked under Derek’s arm. The youngest of the two was smiling shyly at Spencer as he reached up into the boy’s hair, twisting his wrist, and seemingly pulling a beautiful gold ring out of thin air. The boy’s face lit up and Spencer ruffled his hand through the boy’s hair before standing and turning back to the group.

“Here it comes,” Derek mocked, and I shoved him lightly in the side. He ducked away laughing and Spencer’s eyes met mine.

He stood frozen in the same spot for a moment, drinking in my appearance. Then his smile began, creeping slow and sweet across his face. Finally, he crossed the lawn in five quick steps and he was in front of me.

“Long time no see,” I said, blushing.

He reached a hand out, brushing his thumb lightly across my bruised cheek. “You look amazing,” was all he could manage to whisper.

“Right back at you,” I replied, lamely. His smile could have lit up the entire night sky.

The crowd fell silent and we turned to look back towards the patio door. JJ was emerging, arm in arm with a woman who looked like an older version of her. She was radiant, her hair pulled back with delicate curled strands framing her face. Her wedding dress, borrowed from her mother, was timeless, clinging to her shoulders. I snuck a glance back at Will, waiting anxiously with the minister. He was fidgeting with nervous energy, his fingers tapping on the shoulders of the young boy, Henry. Will only had eyes for JJ. I could see tears glittering at the corner of his eyes and I forced myself to turn back to JJ to keep myself from crying. Spencer, still watching JJ, reached out and laced his hand with mine. When I stepped closer to him, he pulled his hand away, choosing instead to wrap it around my shoulders. I felt him press a light kiss to the top of my head. From the other side of the aisle, Derek and Penelope made googly eyes at me, their eyebrows wiggling. I ducked my head into Spencer’s chest, giggling. I could feel his body shaking as Spencer caught glance of the two of them and dissolved into laughter as well.

The ceremony was quick, the entire team erupting into cheers when Will planted a kiss on JJ’s lips. We hung around for a few moments, embracing the happy couple, and then Rossi was waving us towards the table, where waiters were already placing the prepared food on beautiful platters. Spencer, ever the gentleman, pulled my chair out, waiting until I was seated comfortably before settling down next to me. His smile filled my stomach with butterflies and I was honestly surprised I wasn’t floating away into the balmy night air.

Rossi stood, chiming his knife against his champagne flute.

“They say that good things happen to good people,” he began, his eyes touching on each of us briefly. Below the table, Spencer’s fingers curled around mine. “Today is one of those days, and these are two of those people. We love you.”

“Cheers,” the table echoed and we all lifted our glasses of champagne (or in Spence’s case, water) towards the happy couple.

The table dissolved into individual conversations, the buzz growing loud around us. Across the table I could see Derek doing his best to keep Penelope occupied as she eyed Kevin and his new girlfriend a few seats away. He put a hand on her arm, drawing her attention, and planting a light kiss on her temple. The improvement on Penelope’s mood was instantaneous and she flirtatiously slapped him on the bicep, chuckling. Will and JJ were in their own world, whispering quietly to each other, their chairs so close together they were practically sharing a bench. I pulled Spencer’s hand into my lap, squeezing. Only Emily looked a little out of place, leaning quietly back in her chair, watching everyone with a sad smile on her face. When she caught me watching, she raised her champagne to me in silent cheers. I turned back to Spencer, but he responded before I could ask.

“Emily accepted a job leading the London branch of Interpol,” he murmured to me, leaning close, “She leaves in a few weeks.”

I leaned back to look at him fully, in shock. I had only been a part of this family for a short while, but even I knew how much of a gut punch losing Emily would be. I glanced back at her. She was still watching me and, when my eyes caught her, she shrugged sadly. It had obviously been a difficult choice.

After dinner, Rossi, with the air of a circus ring leader, announced the dance floor open for business and some classic rock began filtering through several large speakers scattered around the backyard. Penelope, already several drinks deep, let out a loud yell of excitement and pulled Derek onto the dance floor. They flailed around like idiots, looking like they were having the time of their lives. I snuck a glance back at Spencer, nodding towards the dance floor. He held up his hands, shaking his head, and laughing.

“No, thank you,” he chuckled. Laughter suited his face and it took me a moment to shake myself back to reality.

I huffed, poking him lightly in the side. He cringed away, swatting at my hand.

“If I remember right, you promised me  _ one thousand dances _ ,” I mocked, poking him again.

He grabbed both my hands with his own, holding them hostage in my lap. 

“I’m not backing out on our agreement,” he replied in mock seriousness, “I just have the right to decide when those dances are.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. He shrugged, laughing again, his eyes glittering with mischief.

“Don’t enter into agreements with a genius unless you close all the loopholes,” was his response. 

I rose, tossing my cloth napkin jokingly at him. He caught it without a word, his smile radiant. I backed onto the dance floor, eyes still on his, still attempting to pull him up with me. He leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs, eyes dancing with glee, but he didn’t move to join me. I waved a hand at him, pretending like I couldn’t be bothered with him anymore, and joined Penelope and Derek, flailing my arms above my head. They both cheered, pulling me into a disjointed hug, Penelope holding me a few seconds longer than Derek. More people danced onto the floor and I could see Spencer join Emily on the side, murmuring quietly to her before pulling her into a hug. The song ended, melting into the beginning notes of the Cha Cha Slide and Penelope clapped her hands excitedly, teaching Derek the steps immediately. I fell into step beside them, my heart light, laughing so hard I felt breathless. 

When the song shifted again, this time to a slow song, Penelope froze. She took a deep breath, her eyes on Kevin and his new girlfriend, and exited the dance floor, citing dehydration. Derek and I watched her go. He looked for a moment like he was about to follow her, but when Emily sat down next to her he turned to me. He held out a hand.

“Wanna dance?”

Smiling, I placed my hand in his. Ever the ladies man, he swung me in a graceful circle before placing one hand on my waist and swaying to the beat.

“I didn’t realize you could dance,” I chuckled, “I thought you were all rippling muscles and fuzzy eyebrows.”

He let out a surprised bark of laughter, twirling me again. “Well, Lady Genius, I’m a man of many talents.”

I threw my head back, laughing. We spun for a few more moments and then I caught a glance of Spencer crossing the dance floor towards us. He tapped Derek on the shoulder, winking at me. When Derek glanced back over his shoulder, Spencer smirked and nodded in my direction.

“Can I cut in?” he asked.

Derek laughed and bowed out gracefully. He ducked off of the dance floor for a moment to pull Penelope out of her chair and back to the music. Spencer twirled me away, pulling me closer than Morgan had, one hand on my waist and the other laced between mine. He was several inches taller than Morgan and, looking up at him, it felt like the entire world had disappeared around us. At that particular moment it was him and me, spinning slowly in a field of stars.

“One down, 999 to go,” I whispered. 

He chuckled, glancing down at me, a smirk on his face. “I look forward to each and everyone.”

We continued to lazily turn. I pulled my hand away from his to wrap my arms around his neck, my nose nuzzled into his collarbone. I could see his pulse jumping in his throat and I realized he was just as nervous and excited as I was. The butterflies in my stomach were fluttering again, rising up my throat. Feeling suddenly brave I looked up at him, my eyes locking with his gold.

“Spence,” I whispered, but my courage faltered. My fingers curled around the collar of his shirt, fidgeting.

“Jem,” he responded, swallowing hard. I could feel his fingers tightening against my waist. Behind us, the music was quieting, the song reaching its end.

“Spence,” I tried again, my mouth dry, “I love you.”

He was silent for a moment, his golden brown eyes searching mine. I realized suddenly we had stopped moving. Slowly, my favorite smile grew across his lips and he leaned forward to kiss me, ignoring the rest of the couples around us. I was briefly aware of Derek whistling and the quiet sound of Emily laughing as she danced around us, swaying with Hotch. Spencer, for once not caring about showing public displays of affection in front of his team, raised one hand up to my cheek, his thumb caressing the delicate skin, his fingers sweeping under my hair, curling around the nape of my neck. I had never been kissed like this before. I could feel electric currents zipping through my body, making my toes curl and, for a moment, I thought maybe my heart had stopped.

He pulled back and I tried to follow, almost tripping over his feet. When I opened my eyes all I could see was him. He was grinning, his eyes crinkled, and his hand was still cradling my cheek. I filled my lungs with air, finally able to breathe again.

“I love you too,” he responded finally and it felt like everything suddenly clicked into place, the world righting itself. 

Rossi passed by, snagging another flute of champagne.

“Fucking finally,” he murmured, winking at me.

* * *

The party continued well into the middle of the night. People had been filtering out gradually throughout the evening until only the main team had remained, but it wasn’t until Penelope fell asleep at the table that we all decided it would be best to call it a night. We gathered at the door, sending JJ and Will on their way in an attempt to mirror a ‘traditional’ send off. Hands clasped together, they jogged in between us, Henry in the lead, and climbed into Will’s car.

Spence insisted on walking me home, though I wasn’t planning on arguing with him. We walked to the nearest metro station hand in hand. Occasionally, when our conversation lulled, Spencer would sneak a glance at me. The moment I looked back, he would tell me again,

“I love you.”

I could almost see Matt gagging at our “insufferable cuteness,” but I honestly couldn’t care less. Not once during our trip from Rossi’s house to mine did Spencer release my hand, even while we stood in the middle of a compartment, swaying together with the movement of the train. When we made it back to my apartment, Spencer slowed, hanging back on my porch stairs, releasing my hand, and letting me step forward to my front door. When I had the door unlocked, I froze, hand on the doorknob. My heart in my throat, I turned back to him. He was mid-step, one long leg frozen at the top of the stairs. Heart pounding, I cleared my throat.

“Do you - uh - do you want to come in?” I asked, feigning nonchalance. It shouldn’t have set my pulse a flutter, he had, after all, been in my house before, but this was different.

He took a step, stopping fully at the top of the stairs. He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking awkward.

“Do you want me to?” he murmured.

We watched each other, frozen in time for a moment. I raked my eyes over his body - his artfully disheveled hair grown out into curly tendrils, his bowtie undone, his suit jacket tossed over one arm, and his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal those arms I couldn’t look away from - when I looked back into his eyes I could tell he had been examining me just as closely. Suddenly, my awkwardness faded and, instead, was replaced with adoration, love, and desire. I licked my lips, swallowing hard. Wordlessly, I nodded.

He was there within moments, kissing me with a need that was like finding water in a drought. The force of it shoved me backwards, backing me into the door. Frantically, my hand scrabbled for the doorknob again. We tumbled into my apartment when I found it, practically crashing to the floor. I pulled away just long enough to ensure I had closed the door and locked it properly before grabbing Spencer’s hand and pulling him up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Insert eyes emoji here* Happy Friday everyone! I hope you enjoy this chapter and that you're having a happy and relaxing week. We're currently in the middle of blizzard conditions and I thought I was going to die on my way home from the half-day I spent at my office, but I'm home now, I've got fuzzy socks on, and I'm finally posting this chapter for you all.
> 
> Have a great week and I will see you all next Friday!


	19. Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in the morning has never been so sweet...

The early morning sunlight was bright in Spencer’s eyes. Groaning, he stretched, feeling the delicious tenderness of muscles he hadn’t used in awhile. He rubbed his eyes for a moment and turned to examine the alarm clock on his side of the bed.  _ 5:20am. Too early. _ He turned away, back towards the center of the bed, and smiled, unable to keep his lips from curving.

She had rolled away from him in the night, her short hair a puddle on the pillow below her. He followed the curve of her neck as it led into the rounded line of her shoulder and down further under the sheets. He could feel his body warm at the thought of it. Slowly, so as not to disturb her, he shifted until he was on his side facing her. Her back looked soft and pristine, one small freckle on her right shoulder blade. He reached one finger out to skim lightly over it. Shifting in her sleep, she rolled away from his hand, adjusting until she was on her stomach, hands tucked underneath her. In the shuffle she turned her head, facing towards him. Even after months of seeing her, messaging her, talking to her, she still managed to take his breath away. 

The night before had been long, even after they made it back to her place. The first time they barely made it to her bed, joining together across the foot of it, most of their clothes still on. It wasn’t graceful by any means and he had a moment where he was embarrassed by how quickly it was over, but she had just laughed, raining light kisses all over his face.

“We have all the time in the world,” she had said before she had tipped him back into the sheets.

By all accounts, he should still be asleep. A few statistics on how quickly men recover from sex floated to the top of his brain, but he shoved them down, choosing instead to revel in the ability to watch her in the growing morning light. A strand of hair slipped from its place behind her ear and slowly drifted down her face, tickling her nose. He reached for it, tucking it back behind her ear before she could even register the sensation. 

They had fallen asleep around two in the morning, her body wrapped around his, breasts pressed to his back, but she had woken him just an hour later with soft kisses scattered across the nape of his neck and shoulders like constellations. It didn’t take much more than that before he had rolled back to face her and they came together again, half-asleep, in the darkness. She had clung to him, panting his name in his ear, and in that moment he thought he would never let her go. They would just have to live and die together in this bed.

She scrunched her nose in her sleep, perhaps dreaming, and scrubbed at her nose with one hand still tucked underneath her. The light shifted and then she was awake - barely - her eye a sliver as it glared towards the offending sunbeam. He chuckled as lightly as he could and she met his gaze. Sleepily, she lifted her head off the pillow to take him in.

“Morning,” he murmured, attempting to smooth down her hair. 

“M’ning,” she responded, sleepily, “What time is it?”

“Just after five.”

She dropped her head face first into the pillow, groaning. “Too early,” was her muffled response. 

Spencer laughed again and he skimmed his hand from her hair down her back. She wriggled at the sensation and it took all his focus to stop himself from pulling her to him for another round. 

“You know,” he started and she twisted to glare at him, somehow already aware of the monologue he was about to launch into, “there are a lot of benefits to waking up early including better concentration and enhancing your productivity.”

She pulled herself up to rest on her elbows and leaned toward him, capturing his lips with her own. He responded immediately, his hand curling into her hair, his body turning further towards her subconsciously. She nipped at his lip a little and then pulled back, smirking. Scooting closer to him, she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, her snort of laughter blowing a warm gust of air onto his skin that made him shiver.

“Your concentration still needs work, Doctor,” she murmured, sleepily, throwing an arm across his waist. 

He chuckled, adjusting so that her head rested on his shoulder, his arm curved around her body. He ducked his head to find her eyes. She smiled sleepily back and then tightened her hold around his waist and placed a light kiss on his jawline. Slowly he could feel her body becoming heavy against his own as she slipped back into sleep. He could feel his own eyelids closing and he pulled her close, kissing the top of her head before he too fell back asleep.

* * *

It was seven when I next opened my eyes. It took me a moment to realize what had woken me, the chiming of my alarm blending into my dreams. I was curled against Spencer’s side, heavy and warm, and it was almost painful having to pull myself away from him to silence the chirping. Usually at this time I would be hitting the first of many snoozes before I pulled myself out of bed to prepare for my opening shift at the Raven. I gave silent thanks that I had begged Amy to work this morning, but I had obviously been a little distracted and had forgotten to turn off all the alarms.

Spencer was already waking, scrubbing both his hands over his eyes, looking around for the sound that had pulled him from sleep. The moment he saw me he began to smile, as though realizing his dreams had actually been reality, and I felt my heart expand in my chest. Quickly silencing my phone, I rolled back towards him, reaching out a hand to skim my fingers lightly over his jaw. 

“Good morning,” I whispered.

He ducked his head to place a kiss in my palm.

“You’re in a better mood now that you’ve had a couple more hours of sleep,” he responded.

I rolled my eyes at him, lightly pushing against his chest, playfully. “Maybe I would have been more willing to be awake that early if someone hadn’t kept me up so late.”

I was baiting him, something he should have been aware of, but he fell right into my trap. At the memory of the night before, his face began to redden as the blush spread across his cheeks. He looked away from me shyly, a self-satisfied grin on his lips. It was glorious to watch and I realized I had never seen a more beautiful person than Spencer Reid. 

It was tempting to curl back up against him and stay in bed for the rest of the day, or even my life, but Bruno was whimpering quietly on the floor by my side of the bed and I could feel my stomach rumbling. Spence sat up first, running a hand through his messy hair. Still leaned back against my pillow, I reached out one hand, fingers skimming across the notches of his spine. He tossed a glance over his shoulder, smirking at me. 

“We should probably get up, huh?” he asked without much conviction.

It would have been easy to just say no and pull him back to bed with me, but, right as he began to turn to take me in his arms, my stomach let out a loud gurgle and we both let out surprised laughs. 

“I suppose we should,” I responded, shoulders shaking with giggles, “You shower and I’ll make some breakfast?”

I threw the sheets off of me, shivering in the breeze it created, and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Bruno spun in a couple circles and took off out the door and down the stairs. Spencer was still sitting in the middle of my bed, a view I don’t think I would ever get used to, his chest bare and his hair wild. I collected our scattered clothing, pulling his white button up shirt around me and locating some clean underwear from my dresser drawer. I leaned over the end of my bed to place one slow kiss on his lips and reveled in the sight of the ropy muscles of his biceps moving under his skin as he reached up to tuck my hair behind my ear. He sighed contentedly and climbed out of bed, stretching his arms above his head. I turned back to my dresser partly to find some shorts to pull on before I took Bruno outside and partly because he was so damn distracting.

I could hear the shower hissing as I followed Bruno down the stairs and out the door. He sniffed around the yard, barking at the few passersby, obviously enjoying the feel of being outside. Next door one of my neighbors, a middle-aged woman I only really knew based on appearance and not personally, was trimming her hedge. We made brief eye contact and I gave her a tight smile and awkward wave. I watched her take in my appearance - frizzy hair, oversized dress shirt that obviously wasn’t mine, and bare legs covered in goosebumps from the early morning breeze - and her face puckered in distaste. I gave her one last awkward smile and ushered Bruno back inside to get started on breakfast.

The water shut off as I poured beaten eggs into the pan. I had put on a record after I had stepped back inside and Elvis Presley’s voice was filtering through the open doorway, covering some of the noises of Spencer moving about upstairs. The smell of coffee mixed with the smell of frying bacon as it sizzled on the backburner of my oven and formed a distinctly breakfast smell that took me back to my childhood and the contentment of being with those I love. 

I was singing lightly to myself as I cooked, pushing the eggs around with my spatula, and didn’t hear the sound of Spencer coming down the stairs until he had stepped quietly around the counter, his footsteps silenced by his socks, and wrapped his arms around my middle, planting one gentle kiss underneath my ear. I jumped, leaping backwards into his arms and we both collapsed into laughter as bits of mostly cooked egg were flung across the kitchen. We laughed harder at the sound of Bruno’s nails clicking quickly against the tile as he raced to clean up.

“Sorry,” Spence murmured once we had gotten ourselves under control. 

I plated our breakfasts, smiling softly at him. “Don’t be. It’s the benefit of having a dog. You always have a vacuum to help clean up any messes.”

We sat at my cramped dining room table, our knees pressed together. When his coffee got low he stood to refill it, grabbing my mug without a word and served us both. As his back was turned I took a moment to take him all in. His hair was still damp, but it had begun to curl, and my fingers itched to comb through the mess. Not having anything to change into, he had slipped his undershirt and dress pants back on, but he somehow managed to make his outfit look fresh. When he turned back, mugs in either hand, he caught my eye and began to smirk at me. I ducked my head back toward my eggs.

“Don’t mind me,” I said, sheepishly, “Just enjoying the fact that I have my own personal barista now.”

He chuckled at me, settling in his chair next to me, and taking a satisfied sip of his fresh cup. I spotted a small red smear of lipstick at the collar of his shirt and felt my face warm at the memory.

“If you want,” I started, dropping a small piece of bacon for Bruno to inhale, “you can keep some stuff here for when you stay over.”

He blinked at me for a moment as though surprised that this would be more than a one time thing. My heart twisted in my chest and I actually had to clench my fist to stop myself from climbing into his lap and kissing the living daylights out of him. Finally, he grinned at me, obviously unable to stop the happiness from escaping him. He nodded, not meeting my eyes, and took another bite of his eggs.

“I’d like that,” he responded quietly and I reached out to lace my hand through his. Still looking happily shocked that he had ended up in this particular moment, he squeezed my fingers.

* * *

Spencer declared he was in charge of clean-up despite how much I resisted. Finally, he clamped his hands on my shoulders and steered me towards the stairs, practically marching me there. He watched me as I took a couple of hesitant steps up, his hands planted comically on his hips. I admitted defeat, but bent over the railing to kiss him one more time before hurrying up the remainder of the stairs. He was still at the foot of the stairs watching me when I reached the top, a dazed smile still on his lips.

When I came back down about twenty minutes later everything was clean and my dishwasher was running. If I hadn’t already told him I loved him I may have confessed it to him again. I found him relaxing in my small living room, skimming quickly through a paperback book he had obviously found in one of my bookshelves. He looked up as I stepped into the room and I watched him take in my appearance, that slow grin crossing his lips again.

“Whatcha reading?” I asked, stepping around the corner and sinking onto the couch next to him. I reclined against one arm and, after a moment’s hesitation, placed my feet in his lap.

He twisted the cover so I could see it.  _ The Time Traveler’s Wife _ . I sat up, excited. He had found another one of my favorite books and, from what I could see, he was already about half-way through it.

“What do you think so far?”

He scrunched his nose up a little, thinking. “It’s a little strange how this guy, Henry, falls in love with Clare considering he finds her at all points in her life.” He darted a look towards me. “I mean, she runs into him as early as six years old. Isn’t that kind of creepy to you?”

I pulled my feet from his lap, crossing them underneath me so I could better argue my point.

“Not at all!” I exclaimed. He looked amused at my sudden outburst and I took a breath to dial it back. “I can understand why you might think that, but the whole point of the story is that, no matter what or who, you can find your match at any point in time. It’s unbelievably romantic.”

He narrowed his eyes at the page in front of him, flipping back and forth a few times with a half-joking skeptic look on his face. Finally he turned back to me.

“I suppose I’ll take your word for it,” he said at last, and I slapped him playfully on the shoulder. 

He laughed, catching my hands and pulling me close for another kiss. For a moment we were precariously balanced, him tipped towards me, slowly pushing me back into the cushions. Before it could go any further, I pulled away, glaring at him.

“I hope you know I’m not going to let that slide,” I warned, as his eyes danced with laughter, “What are you doing reading romance novels anyways? I never considered you the romance type.”

“You don’t?” Spencer murmured, his face still inches away from mine. I did my best to not get distracted, but it was difficult with him so close.

“Nope,” I whispered back, “If you want me to think otherwise I think I’m going to need some more evidence.”

He laughed, dipping his head forward to close the small distance between us, and then we had toppled back,  _ The Time Traveler’s Wife _ forgotten on the floor.

* * *

We pulled ourselves back together and Spencer picked up the crumpled book from the floor to resume reading. I located my computer, stuffed in my bag by the front door, and had resumed my position on the couch, my feet in Spencer’s lap to stare at the still mostly blank application. He flipped pages at a ridiculous pace, but occasionally his hand would drop to my feet, fingers pressed into the arches, massaging. It was becoming quickly obvious to me that living alone would be completely ruined for me now. On the page, the cursor was mocking me again. I sighed heavily and I saw Spencer look up at me.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, placing a bookmark in between the pages, and placing it on the coffee table to pay complete attention to me.

“It’s nothing,” I said, but he quirked an eyebrow at me and I rolled my eyes, “Ok, fine. I’m still struggling to complete my application for grad school.”

He sat up a little, attempting to get more comfortable and face me fully. Twisting in the seat, he threw an arm across the top of the couch and rested his head in his hand. “Tell me about it. Maybe I can help?”

I sighed and pulled myself up further on the arm of the couch so I wasn’t as reclined. I tapped my fingers against the keyboard, focusing on the blank page.

“So I have to reapply to the program and they want me to tell them a story,” I explained, “I’ve been thinking about the prompt for weeks now, but it’s so vague that I don’t know what exactly they want from me.”

He shrugged as though it was an easy question to answer. “It sounds like they want a story.”

“Well, thank you, Genius,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. He was smiling at me again and it was distracting, “I don’t know what story they want me to tell.”

His eyes darted around my apartment looking for inspiration. His mouth was scrunched to one side as he thought hard. As he looked around, the sunlight streaming in from my living room window caught his profile, bringing it into stark relief. I was staring at him when he looked back at me.

“I’ve always heard ‘write what you know,’” he said, sounding sheepish, probably not used to not having an answer immediately available.

I was still staring at him, the gears in my head spinning. Suddenly my fingers felt like they were full of electricity and I dipped my head back to the screen. Forcing myself to just type whatever came to my mind, I began writing. Spencer, a little bemused, said nothing obviously worried he’d interrupt whatever process that had just come over me. Pausing momentarily in my typing, I glanced up at him and we made eye contact over my computer screen. His golden eyes crinkled as he gave me a crooked smile and, feeling my heart swell, I continued to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! I don't know about you guys, but I feel like a HUGE weight has been lifted off my shoulders now that Wednesday passed without issue. I try not to get political, but I can't help it. We've been living in apocalyptic conditions for the last four years. 
> 
> I hope everyone is staying safe and staying healthy! I will see you all next Friday!


	20. Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team and Jemma help Emily pack and celebrate her one last time before she leaves for London. Spencer comes to a realization...

Spencer was coming to realize that life with Jemma was ridiculously easy. He was practically floating around the office, a dazed look on his face that caused Morgan to tease him relentlessly. Even Emily, a little melancholic she was leaving soon, couldn’t help but offer him a sly smile.

“Who knew the kid just needed some loving to get him to stop monologuing,” Morgan said in a stage whisper to Emily that easily reached Spencer’s ears. The day had been full of catching up on paperwork and celebrating Emily’s time with the team, but now the time was winding down and everyone, particularly Morgan, was restless. When Spencer attempted to retaliate, throwing a pen in Morgan’s general vicinity, Morgan just laughed, easily ducking out of the way. 

“Boys, behave,” JJ responded, not looking up from her computer screen. For a moment Spencer smiled at her, happy to have someone on his side not poking fun at his new relationship, but then she caught his glance, a familiar mischievous glint in her eye, “But he’s right Spence. You do have a certain _glow._ ”

He threw up his arms, exasperated, but the whole effect was ruined based on the goofy grin he couldn’t keep off his face. “Come on guys, you can’t cut me even _a little_ slack here?”

Morgan perched on his desk, a sly smirk on his lips. Emily, halfway done packing up a box of her things, turned to him and planted her fists on her hips. She tipped her head at him, her eyebrows raised.

“Not in the slightest,” she answered, winking at him, “I only have a few days left in Virginia. I’m going to poke fun at the Resident Genius as much as I want to until I’m gone.”

Morgan laughed and shrugged his shoulders. “I honestly thought the only time I could talk to Reid about a girl was that one time that actress had the hots for him. It’s a miracle there was a second chance.”

He ducked again as Spencer tossed another pen at him, this time smacking Morgan on the bicep. Morgan held up his hands in surrender.

“Alright, alright, I give!” he exclaimed. He pulled himself off of his desk, stepping closer to Spencer. His smile softened from playful to genuine and he dropped his voice lower, clapping a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Seriously though, kid. I’m really happy for you. I can tell she’s crazy about you and I can think of no one else more deserving of happiness than you.”

Spencer twisted his fingers in his lap, a little moved by Morgan’s words, the smile not budging from his lips. Morgan let his hand rest on Spencer’s shoulder for a moment longer, squeezing slightly, then the playful smile was back and he mussed Spencer’s hair on his way back to his desk. Spencer gave an indignant squawk and immediately attempted to fix the damage. 

Emily, mostly done packing up her desk, leaned away from the partially full cardboard box on her desk, sighing heavily. She opened a couple of the drawers, peering into them to ensure she hadn’t left anything behind, but Spencer knew she was just as detail oriented as the rest of the team. If she left anything behind it was because she didn’t want to take it with her. Penelope came hustling in, a vision in neon pink, clutching her octopus mug. When she saw the box on Emily’s desk she kicked into high gear, making a beeline around the cubicles for the team.

“You didn’t think you could just sneak out without saying goodbye, did you?” she called, pulling Emily into a bear hug.

Emily smiled, rubbing Penelope’s back. “Garcia, you greeted me at the elevator this morning with cupcakes that spelled out ‘we will miss you’ and a small union jack flag,” she pulled back to look into Penelope’s slightly watery eyes, finding the small flag in her cardboard box and waving it a little, “Believe me, I know I wouldn’t be able to sneak anywhere in this building.”

Spencer stood, joining Morgan in leaning against the desks, his hands in his pockets. “When do you officially go across the pond?”

Emily took a moment, rubbing her palms against her thighs as she attempted to remember her itinerary. 

“My flight leaves on Monday.” She turned back to the sad, little box on her desk. “I know I still have a couple of days, but the amount of random crap I have still to be packed in my apartment is a little out of control.”

Penelope sucked in an excited burst of air, her hands waving excitedly in the air. “Ooh, ooh, let us help! We can help you pack up your apartment and then we can go get drinks and celebrate you one last time!”

Emily looked uncomfortable for a moment, glancing over at JJ who shrugged at her, smiling. Morgan swung an arm around Garcia, pulling her close, grinning at Emily. She looked at Spencer who nodded encouragingly.

“I could always invite Jemma,” he said, and the team erupted in hoots and hollers.

Obviously swayed, Emily smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Ok, ok, that sounds great. Let’s say tomorrow - my house first for some packing and then drinks at the bar around the corner from my place?”

Morgan tossed a glance over his shoulder at the silhouette of Hotch in his office and the similar shadow of Rossi, pacing in his. He knocked a shoulder against Spencer’s. 

“I’ll tell the bosses and you get your Sweetness on the phone,” he said, winking. Spencer didn’t even bother to answer, pulling his phone out of his pocket with a smile, already dialing the number he knew so well. 

“Hey,” she responded almost immediately. She sounded breathless like he had caught her mid-run or like she had hustled to her phone the moment she heard it ring.

“Hi,” he replied, wincing when he heard his voice squeak. Morgan ruffled Spencer’s hair again before heading towards the stairs. JJ leaned away from her computer to watch Spencer as he attempted to ignore the rest of the team. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

She laughed, it was light and breathy, still trying to catch her breath. “Just trying to help a grumpy old man who doesn’t know what book he’s looking for, but he is very angry that we can’t read his mind. I’ve been practically running back and forth across the store locating various books I _think_ may be the one he’s looking for.”

He smiled at the image, wishing he was there with her. Rubbing a hand across the back of his head, fiddling with the curls at the nape of his neck, he continued, “I can call you back later if you want me to -,”

“No!” she interrupted, suddenly, “Believe me I’d rather hear your voice than his. I’m currently hiding in the back room while Amy takes a crack at him. Maybe she’ll have better luck finding what he’s looking for. What’s up?”

Spencer’s eyes darted up to meet Emily, who was watching him, her arms crossed and an amused look on her face. He turned his back on her, JJ, and Penelope and slouched back in his seat.

“Are you busy tomorrow night?”

There was a pause where she hummed as she mentally reviewed her calendar. “I don’t think so.” Her voice turned coy and he could feel that goofy grin on his lips again. “Are you asking me on a date, Dr. Reid?”

“I think I kinda am, yeah,” he said, laughing. Behind him, Penelope audibly ‘ _awwed_ ’ and someone - JJ maybe? - shushed her. “The team is helping Emily pack up the rest of her apartment and then we’re going to have a couple drinks at a nearby bar to celebrate her going away.”

He could practically see her beaming on the other line. “That sounds amazing. I’m there. But I hope you know that if this bar has a dance floor I’m making you dance with me this time. To actual party music - not a slow song.”

He laughed again and sighed dramatically. “I suppose I can make that compromise.”

“It’s no compromise, _Doctor_ ,” she mocked, “You made me a promise. I intend to collect.”

He was grinning, momentarily struck speechless. 

“You there?”

He cleared his throat and adjusted in his chair. “Yeah. Hey Jem?”

“Yeah, Doc?”

“I love you.” He would bet his entire library that the women behind him had melted into a puddle behind him based on the gasps and Penelope’s ‘ _I’m going to die from cuteness_ ,’ but he really didn’t care. In that moment he needed her to know.

He could hear her giggling on the other line. “Well you _know_ I’m crazy about you,” she finally replied and he thought maybe his heart would explode in his chest. 

“I’ll see you then?”

“If I don’t see you sooner,” her tone was teasing and then she was gone and he had to physically grip the arm of his chair to keep himself from fleeing out the door and directly to her.

Putting his phone back into his pocket, he turned slowly to face the ladies he knew were still watching him. All three of them were grinning at him: JJ had the look of a proud mother and the affection in her eyes was so strong it was hard to look directly at her; Emily looked almost shocked as though she had just seen a side of Reid she wasn’t aware he even _had_ ; Penelope looked like she was about to spontaneously combust. As he took them in, she slowly began to bounce on the heels of her feet, the energy coming off her in waves.

“Boy Genius, you are. So. Adorable!” she squealed before wrapping her arms around his neck and placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek. Spencer was too happy to care.

* * *

“Welcome!” Emily exclaimed as she swung the door open to wave me inside. She had a red Solo cup of what looked like red wine in her hand and pulled me into a one armed hug.

“I’m sorry I’m late!” I replied, stepping into the half boxed apartment and shrugging out of my coat, “We had several stragglers that just didn’t want to leave after closing.”

She waved one hand dismissively at me and I followed her into the kitchen. I could hear Penelope somewhere in the apartment. By the comments she was making (“Emily, you would look so _hot_ in this!”) I assumed she was helping pack up Emily’s closet. Emily looked unperturbed, pouring me a small amount of red wine in my own solo cup.

“Don’t worry about it. I actually have a large part of it done thanks to the team.” She took a sip of wine, surveying what was left of her kitchenware. “Unfortunately Hotch and Rossi were held up at the office and weren’t able to make it, but they promised they’d meet me at the airport on Monday morning. Anyways, Reid is attempting to help Mogan wrap up the last bits of my living room artwork, and JJ is supposedly helping Garcia pack the remainder of my clothes, but I expect I’ll probably have to finish that tomorrow.”

I laughed, clunking my plastic cup against hers before taking a sip. Red wine had never been my favorite drink of choice and so, after several sips, I left it on the counter of the kitchen as I followed her into the living room. I was blown away by her picture window - a gorgeous view of the city lights reflecting into the room - and stood gawking at the vision before realizing that I was missing out on a much better view.

Derek and Spencer were obviously struggling. Supposedly Derek spent a lot of time renovating houses, but when it came to safely wrapping strangely shaped art pieces he was entirely lost and Spencer, despite an IQ of 187, was not much help.

“Kid, I’ll keep hold of this and you take that bubble wrap and just wrap it,” Derek was saying, his hand holding a long, rounded art piece. 

Emily leaned against the open doorway, sipping quietly at her wine. I could see the hint of a smile on her lips and, when she caught my eye, she put a finger to her lips indicating I should just watch the show. Trying to hold in my laughter I turned back to Spencer and Derek. Spencer had his chin in his hand, stepping around the piece, surveying it like it was a crime scene. Finally, he nodded and turned back to find a tightly wound bundle of bubble wrap. He handed the end to Derek, who held it firmly around the art piece, and then began a strange dance of circling the artwork. There were several awkward moments where Spencer had to step around Derek, dipping the bundle of bubble wrap underneath his arms, in a strange embrace. Finally, after several pass-throughs, Spencer stopped. He took a pair of nearby shears and cut the excess wrap off as Derek slapped some packing tape onto the edge. Derek lay the artwork gently in a nearby cardboard box and, satisfied, he stepped away to offer Spencer a high five. 

“Good work, kid,” he said and it was the satisfied tone of his voice on top of their heartwarming brotherhood that had me snorting in laughter.

Both men looked up surprised and Emily followed me quickly into fits of giggles. Morgan narrowed his eyes at us and Spencer tucked a piece of his longer hair behind his ear, blushing slightly.

“You guys did a great job,” Emily said at last, stepping forward to wrap her arms around both of their shoulders. She planted a sloppy kiss on each of their temples and both Morgan and Spencer looked a little confused and self-satisfied.

I saw JJ and Penelope out of the corner of my eye before Penelope had gathered me into a big hug. Over her shoulder I saw JJ smile at me as she stepped into the living room, her hands in her back pockets.

“Well, Em,” she said, “I think we’ve packed all we can for right now.”

Penelope shook her head vigorously. “Yes, and I’ve picked out some outfits for you to wear if you want to look hot before you leave and if you want to look hot when you fly out.”

Emily laughed. “That’s why I love you Penelope,” she said, winking.

Spencer skirted the crowd, finding his way to my side. He knocked my shoulder lightly with his own and, when I turned to look up at him, he smiled softly at me. Our pinkies looped together for the briefest moment, squeezing and releasing. Morgan was rubbing his hands together excitedly, winking first at Penelope and then at Emily.

“I’d say we’re ready to get some drinks, what do you guys think?” he exclaimed, finally dropping a wink in my direction. If he saw how close Spencer was to me he didn’t say anything. 

Emily drained her cup, tossing it into a nearly overflowing bin in the middle of the room. She led us out of her apartment, holding the door open for us as we all stepped out one by one. Spencer and I held back, following the crowd at a small distance. As Morgan wrapped one arm around Emily and the other around Penelope, Spencer laced his fingers through mine. In front of us JJ was laughing and she turned to make sure we were still there. Her gaze first met mine and then slid to Spencer where her eyes softened. When I turned to see what she was looking at I realized that Spencer had been gazing at me. The affection within those golden eyes was almost palpable and I felt my cheeks heat.

* * *

Spencer knew he should be trying to spend as much time with Emily as possible or at least contributing more to the conversation as the group. There were several times he could have interjected with a statistic on housing prices in the London area or information on how many nightclubs D.C. had scattered throughout the city, but in reality all he could think about was the feeling of Jemma’s hand within his own and the radiant smile she kept directing at him. It was amazing Morgan hadn’t picked up on his distracted state, but he had almost immediately joined the dance floor once they had ducked into the nearby bar. Penelope was too busy grilling Emily with questions about living in the United Kingdom. Only JJ really seemed to realize what was going on in his brain as she kept sneaking glances at him, a knowing smile playing on her lips. 

Next to him, Jemma was sipping slowly on an amber beer, grimacing slightly at the taste. Her eyes were on the dance floor, watching Morgan dip and twist, surrounded by an ungodly amount of women. When she realized Spencer was watching her again her lips twisted into a sly smile that had his stomach flipping.

“I hope you know I’m getting you on that dance floor tonight,” she told him, stretching on her tiptoes to say it directly in his ear. 

He grinned down at her then rolled his eyes, sipping quietly at his water. She punched his arm lightly with a curled fist and he tipped away from her, laughing.

“I mean it, Doctor!” she warned, but the effect was ruined by the smile she couldn’t keep off of her face.

They playfully glared at each other for a moment and then the song shifted. Within the first few notes, Jemma had shifted from playfully flirting with Spencer to jumping up and down and hurrying around the table to pull Penelope onto the dance floor. It was so sudden that Spencer was left feeling completely dumbstruck like he had just been caught up in a tornado.

“What just happened?” he asked JJ as she took Jemma’s place next to him, laughing.

“It’s Beyonce,” she replied as though he would understand. When he didn’t she looked slightly exasperated, “The Queen B? She’s a popular music artist. Jemma and Penelope danced to this song the last time we went out for drinks.”

He remembered that night vividly. At the memory of her drunken phone call he began to grin. On the dance floor, Jemma had her eyes closed, hands above her head, and her body twisting to the music. Penelope was next to her, waving her arms in the air, as Derek danced his way over to them. Across the table, Emily was watching them, laughing as Derek wrapped his arms around Penelope’s middle and she let out an excited screech of laughter.

“I really am going to miss this,” she said, tossing a glance back at JJ and Spencer.

“You don’t have to go,” Spencer replied and Emily smiled softly at him, “I’m sure Hotch would let you stay if you decided to change your mind.”

Emily adjusted in her seat, turning to face the two of them across from her. She fiddled with her glass and glanced back at the dance floor one more time.

“I know,” she said at last, “But I need to do this. It was such a hard decision, but I think I’ll be happy at Interpol.”

When she looked up at Spencer and JJ her eyes were shining with unexpected emotion. She wiped at her eyes quickly and shook her head like she was trying to clear it of water.

“But tonight isn’t about being sad. It’s about being happy! Which, I can say you don’t need a profiler to tell that _you_ are, Reid.”

He grinned again, sneaking another glance at Jemma, still dancing like no one was watching just a short distance away. JJ and Emily’s smiles were a little too knowing when he looked back.

“I didn’t expect this to happen,” he replied, shrugging.

JJ placed a hand over his, squeezing. “That’s how it always happens.”

He cleared his throat, taking a moment to sip at his water some more. His stomach was flipping again. He had never been one to share personal details with anyone no matter how close he was with them or how many details he knew about them, but there was something in his gut he had to get out. He couldn’t think of anyone else he’d rather talk to than JJ and Emily.

“It almost scares me sometimes how much I love her,” he murmured, voice almost lost in the thumping music, “I don’t want to be with anyone but her, is that normal?”

Emily leaned forward across the table, ducking her head to snag his gaze. 

“Reid, I think that’s just being in love.” Next to him, JJ nodded her head fervently. “I don’t think there’s anything abnormal or normal about it. It’s incredibly obvious that you two are connected.”

 _Whatever our souls are made of, yours and mine are the same..._ he swirled his water with his straw, smiling softly to himself. A thought crossed his mind and he jerked his head up to look at JJ.

“JJ, when did you know you wanted to marry Will?”

She looked momentarily surprised and glanced over at Emily, who looked just as taken aback. Then she settled back on the barstool, thinking hard. 

“I don’t know Spence,” she said, still deep in thought, “I guess I just realized what life would be like without him and I couldn’t imagine it. Will and I have been through a lot and we knew we’d always have each other, but marrying him just seemed like something that would prove how much we needed each other.”

Spencer nodded, his mind reeling. “You and Will were together for years before you decided to get married. Do you think someone could feel the way you do in less time?”

JJ blinked once and took a deep breath. Across the table, Emily leaned back in her chair, staring. Finally, JJ let out a shaky laugh.

“Spence, in this particular instance, I think it is entirely possible.”

He nodded at her, his brow furrowing as his brain kicked into high gear. The song overhead shifted into another quick, bass thumping party song he didn’t know and he snuck a glance back at the dance floor. Jemma was still dancing, though she had slightly shifted away from Penelope and Morgan, caught in her own world. As though feeling his gaze on her, her eyes met his and their smiles grew at the same time. Still dancing in time to the beat she lifted one hand in his direction, crooking her finger at him, inviting him to dance. Despite the fact that he didn’t know the song or even the artist and the fact that he had never danced more than the occasional slow dance Spencer found himself getting to his feet. He could see the thunderstruck looks on JJ and Emily’s faces out of the corner of his eye, but he only had eyes for Jemma. She looked just as surprised as JJ and Emily as he crossed the bar and joined her on the dance floor.

“I don’t believe it,” she joked when he stepped up close to her, their noses only centimeters apart. Despite their closeness it was difficult to hear her over the thumping of the bass.

“I honestly don’t really believe it either,” he admitted and they both laughed, “I have no idea how to dance.”

Though the sound of the music and the crowd was loud he could almost hear the sweet sound of her laugh in his mind. She reached for his hands, placing them on the curve of her waist. She began to move, twisting her hips slowly in halftime to the music. Slowly he began to move with her, feeling jerky and awkward. Jemma smiled encouragingly at him and dropped her hands to his hips to force him to twist with her.

“There you go,” she said, “You got it!”

He laughed, still feeling ridiculous, but with her radiant smile tipped his way he was finding it difficult to care. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he pulled her close, twisting in time with her hips. It was incredibly intimate and he forced himself to forget the other bodies around them.

“You are a very good dancer, Dr. Reid,” she said, her voice a murmur in his ear.

He chuckled. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

She pulled away a little, far enough to glare at him. “It’s no lie, but I am a little biased. I do have a preference of dancing with geniuses with three doctorates and can read 20,000 words per minute.”

He could feel himself grinning again. For a moment his brain tipped back to the conversation he had had with JJ and Emily and his stomach flipped again. He tightened his arms around Jemma, placing a kiss on her temple, and bending low to whisper in her ear.

“I am so in love with you, you know?”

She shivered in his arms, her hand curling around the nape of his neck as she looked up into his eyes. She looked momentarily speechless, her eyes darting across his face, and then she smiled again.

“Not as much as I am in love with you,” was her response and Spencer had never felt more sure of anything in his life. 

He was going to marry this woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday all! I've had writer's block for a majority of this month, but luckily I've had a handful of chapters built up already so I wouldn't have to miss a Friday. Recently though I've had inspiration so I've been writing like mad this week and I've added a couple more chapters to Jemma and Spencer's story. I think you'll all really enjoy the upcoming chapters and maybe also slightly hate me? I don't know...we'll see.
> 
> I'll see you all next week!


	21. Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Raven Bookstore crew spend some time together while the BAU are away on a case...

“ _You,_ ” I heard a cranky old woman croak at me. 

She had taken me by surprise as I restocked the mystery section, sneaking up on me in her quiet geriatric shoes. I took a deep breath, quieting my leaping heart rate and guarding myself for what was inevitably going to be a difficult conversation. When I turned to face the woman my heart sunk even lower. It was the Betty Smith hater, the woman who had threatened to call the police. Why she was even back in this bookstore was beyond me - I assumed I had offended her so badly with my book choices that she had sworn off of bookstores all together. She looked just as shocked and repulsed as I felt as she scowled down at me.

“I’m looking for another book,” she continued, without even waiting for me to answer her. Her eyes darted around the store, obviously looking for someone else to help her. Silently, I wondered where Amy had gone to. This woman must have thought the same thing. “Surely there is someone _else_ who can help me?”

I took another deep breath, trying to keep my obvious exasperation quiet, as I pulled myself up from the crouch I had been in, and dusted my jeans off. I stood on my tiptoes, attempting to locate Amy amongst the stacks, but she was nowhere to be found. Pasting on the most realistic attempt at my Customer Service smile (attempt being the key word here), I held up one finger at the angry woman. She seemed to take that finger as a personal affront and began to swell in anger like a frog on a fat lilypad.

“Let me locate our other cashier,” I replied quickly before dodging past her as she opened her mouth to yell at me.

I could see the old woman follow me slowly out of the aisle, still looking murderous, but quiet for now. There were a handful of other patrons in the store, but all were quietly perusing on their own. I snuck a glance down the aisle where I had first laid eyes on Spencer and silently wished he was there right now if nothing else than to help me find Amy. She, however, was nowhere to be found out on the floor. I was just about to duck into the back office to look for her there when she stepped out, nearly colliding with me.

“Amy!” I breathed out, one hand on my chest, calming my heart rate for the second time in ten minutes, “There you are! There’s a customer out here who refuses to accept any of my recommendations. Would you take care of her?”

I jabbed my thumb back towards the woman, still lurking in the lane between bookshelves. Amy tipped slightly to peer past my shoulder at her. When she made eye contact with the angry, old woman she gave her a small smile - which, no doubt, was not returned - and an awkward wave. Amy looked back at me and nodded. She slid past me, her shoulder brushing mine, and it suddenly struck me how off she seemed. Usually bubbly and talkative, Amy was quiet and looked sullen. I caught her wrist before she was by me. She didn’t look back at me, instead her eyes landed on where my fingers curled around her wrist.

“Hey,” I murmured, turning slightly so that the woman couldn’t see my face, “Are you ok?”

Amy looked up at me, her eyes finally meeting my own. There was a beat where I couldn’t read the emotion behind them. _Had something happened? Was her crazy ex back?_ Then, like a curtain sliding closed across a stage, the emotion shifted and she was smiling at me.

“What do you mean?” she replied, and the cheeriness in her voice almost sounded legitimate. _Almost_ . “I’m fine! I mean," her voice dropped to a whisper and she leaned toward me conspiratorially. She was so close I could smell her perfume. _Citrus - why does that smell familiar?_ “Personally I don’t really want to deal with this old hag, but I suppose it comes with the territory of customer service.”

She stepped back, pulling her arm away from me, and directed a cheery smile at the now obviously impatient woman still waiting on the floor. Amy clapped her cheerily on the shoulder, directing her towards a random bookshelf, asking her questions about what exactly she had been looking for. I remained standing at the entrance to the back office for a moment, unsure. Something had happened, but I wasn’t entirely sure what. What had Amy been doing in the back office? Where had she gone? I glanced back through the darkened doorway - the office looked untouched, the only source of light the blinking light of the computer monitor, and the emergency exit door looked undisturbed, but I wasn’t so sure anymore. I stood in the doorway a moment longer, torn. _Should I investigate further? Amy has given me no reason not to trust her, but I did meet her by chance at a coffee shop…_

“Excuse me?” A small voice pulled me back to reality. Barely visible over the counter, a tiny boy placed a stack of children’s chapter books and dropped a wad of cash and coins next to it. The coins rolled everywhere and I leapt forward to catch them before they rolled off the counter and into No Man’s Land underneath. Distracted, it was easy to file away the weird situation in the back of my brain and, by the time the boy was gone, I had moved back to restocking the Mystery section, my concerns mostly forgotten.

* * *

“How are my favorite employees doing?” Matt called, his arms outstretched, as he stepped into the bookstore ten minutes before we closed.

Amy, counting out the cash at the register, caught my eye and we smirked, shaking our heads at Matt. I still had my concerns about her, but, for the most part, she seemed back to normal. We had even spent several minutes bashing the cranky, old woman after Amy had rung her up (at a discount - the woman’s insistence - because we took too long to get to her needs). 

“Matthew,” I sighed, finishing straightening up the front display before turning to him in mock exasperation, “We’re your _only_ employees.”

He waved a dismissive hand and, together, we joined Amy at the register. She held up a finger, mid-count, and Matt and I exchanged a look, but, respectfully, stayed quiet. When she finished counting up the pennies, dumping them in a battered ziplock bag, and deposited them in the bank bag, she looked up at us. 

“What’s up, Matt?” she asked, turning away for a quick second to quit the cash register program and shut down the computer. 

Matt leaned heavily against the counter, sighing for obvious dramatic effect. He darted a glance at me and another quick one back at Amy, ensuring we were paying attention and, hopefully, giving him the reaction he wanted. I tried not to laugh, but, after working with Matt alone for two years I could see the game he was playing. Amy, already quick as a whip, looked like she was connecting the dots as well.

“What do you need, Boss Man?” I tried as Matt still had not said anything. His lips quirked and he twirled to place his elbows on the counter, his chin in his hands.

“Well,” he said, extending the word out as far as he could, “I was thinking. Jemma, you’ve _almost_ applied to grad school,” I rolled my eyes at him. He continued without dropping a beat, “Amy, you recently moved here and we haven’t shown you the sights of the city yet, and -” he paused for dramatic effect, “- I want to meet someone. So, we need to go out tonight.”

Amy’s brow furrowed and she glanced at me. “Isn’t it weird to go get drinks with your boss?”

Matt looked offended. He narrowed his eyes at her and pointed an accusatory finger at her. “Don’t make me uninvite you.”

She blinked, momentarily stunned, and then laughed once. I chuckled too and shrugged my shoulders. 

“I suppose I could do that,” I replied. It had been awhile since I spent any time with Matt or any other friends outside of the BAU team. I supposed it wasn’t a bad idea to have friends outside of your boyfriend’s group.

Matt smiled, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

“If you want, since apparently getting drinks with your boss is frowned upon -,” he glared mockingly at Amy, “I’ll allow you to invite Spencer.”

Amy’s eyes darted to mine and, for a moment, something almost predatory gleamed behind them. I suddenly remembered our first meeting and her crazy ex-boyfriend. Maybe she had heard from him, and maybe the idea of being around boyfriend’s - even other people’s boyfriends - was just too overwhelming. Feeling suddenly protective of her, I shook my head.

“Nah, it’s been awhile since I’ve just hung out one-on-one with you and, now, Amy,” I shot a wink in her direction, but was a little surprised to see disappointment in her eyes. It was there for a split second and then it was gone. The whole thing happened within a split second and I wasn’t even sure I had seen it. Confused, I continued, “Uh, anyways, Spencer is on a case at the Mexican border so he couldn’t come out with us tonight even if he wanted to.”

Matt patted my shoulder sympathetically, waiting a beat of silence as though mourning my loss of a boyfriend. Then he smiled, his enthusiasm back.

“Alright, let’s get locked up and let’s go!” he replied, clapping his hands.

We finished closing up the Raven, turning the lights out, and pulling the door shut (Amy holding the door close to her body while I attempted to turn the key in the lock) before trotting down the hill towards the metro station. Matt had found a cozy jazz bar a few stops down, luckily only a stop away from my station, where he said we could “enjoy the atmosphere and help me meet some guys!” Amy and I just rolled our eyes, smiling at each other.

The train was more crowded than usual when we stepped into a compartment. Amy and I crammed ourselves into a cramped pair of plasticky seats while Matt stood next to us, swaying slightly with the movement of the train. I was tempted to pull my phone out to send a quick text to Spencer, but it was stuck in my back pocket and any attempt to extract it would result in either an elbow to Matt’s groin or an elbow to Amy’s jaw. Instead I tried to slyly survey Amy in the seat next to me.

When she had sat down, she had immediately gathered her big bag into her lap, cradling it like a baby or like it was full of treasure. This wasn’t entirely out of line for the metro as, across the car, a ratty looking woman with several missing teeth was eyeing our party, and I could have sworn I had felt the brush of a man’s hand against my ass as I had attempted to push past the crowd toward the pair of free seats. No, she wasn’t acting entirely out of character, but something seemed off. 

The train lurched to a halt and there was a traffic jam as people from all over the car attempted to swim upstream towards the exit. Matt was momentarily pulled away from us, shoved across the aisle to clear the way. I took the free moment within the chaos to whisper to Amy.

“You sure you’re ok?” I asked, leaning forward so she could hear me.

Her arms tightened around her bag as she turned her head to glance at me. Her eyes were unreadable again and something in my gut tightened. 

“Everything’s fine,” she replied too quickly.

“See, I don’t know if I believe that,” I responded, attempting a smile and a genial chuckle. Hesitantly, she returned the smile. Feeling anxious, I powered ahead, “Is it your ex?”

“My ex?” For a moment she looked confused and I felt like I was standing on unstable ground. Then some kind of recognition clicked behind her eyes and her mouth fell open into an ‘o.’ She looked away from me, down at her purse, her fingers twisting the straps. “Right, my ex. Um, yeah. It’s my ex.”

I reached my hand out to hers, hesitating a moment before she reached across the small distance and laced her fingers through mine and squeezed.

“Look, if you ever need to talk or if you just need a place to stay, you can always tell me. I’m here for you,” I murmured back to her. 

She squeezed my hand back, her eyes searching my face for something I couldn’t tell. She looked like maybe she wanted to say something to me, but then she was pulling away as the train pulled away from the station. Matt leaned back towards us, telling us more about the bar we were going to, and the moment was gone. As he chatted with us, oblivious to the emotion below him, I snuck another glance at Amy. She had turned away, looking out the dark window, and her reflection in the glass was unreadable, but I could almost swear I saw a small smile on the corner of her lips.

* * *

We arrived at the bar, The Black Diamond, just as the night life was beginning to bloom. It was obvious we were underdressed, as the bouncer looked us up and down and then pointedly turned to the women behind us. They were decked out in tight, little dresses and jewels. I felt very plain in my skinny jeans and slouchy black sweater. Matt, undeterred, pressed a bill into the bouncer’s hand and, suddenly, we were being waved into the darkened room.

It was small, split into three distinct sections. In the far back, partially hidden by the darkness and an unexplainable smoky haze though this was a non-smoking bar, was the bar itself. There were two young-looking guys performing what looked like fancy bar tricks and Matt puffed his chest up a little. He waved Amy and I away towards the middle section, where a smattering of small round tables were clustered around the room and some square tables were shoved up against the side where booths lined the walls, and made his way towards the bar. We found an empty square table against the wall towards the front of the room and squeezed together in the booth. The entire front half of the bar was dedicated to a small stage where a keyboardist, bass player, and trumpet player were warming up. In the wings, a woman in classic flapper gear was chatting with the sound engineer.

“Wow,” I said, taking in the entire atmosphere, “Matt really knows how to pick the places he goes to pick up guys.”

Amy snorted, closely examining a menu of drinks that was barely legible in the darkened room. Across the room I spotted Matt, waving wildly in our direction. Behind him, a bemused bartender was eyeing him and I realized it was distinctly possible that Matt was actually going to find someone. He lifted his phone up and began dramatically texting on the keyboard. A moment later, my phone buzzed. 

“Matt wants to know what drink we want to order,” I told Amy, who was still squinting at the menu, “I think he’s hit it off with that bartender guy,” I spared a glance in her direction, shrugging, “Who knows? Maybe we’ll get free drinks out of it.”

She laughed once, examining the two men now in close discussion at the bar. I attempted to read the menu, dipping closer to her to try and read the tiny print. That familiar scent I had smelled in the bookstore hit my senses again, tickling my memory. Perhaps it was the fact that we were no longer in a work setting, but it suddenly clicked into place.

“I think I’m going to try a Sidecar,” Amy was saying, more to herself than to me. She tapped one finger against her chin and then realized I was staring at her. 

“Is that my perfume?” I asked, now that my brain had connected to my mouth.

She blinked at me and then laughed again, sounding embarrassed.

“Yeah, I saw it in your bathroom and you always smell so nice and I just happened to find it when I was shopping one weekend,” she glanced up at me, sheepish, “Are you totally creeped out?”

In all honesty, I was a little bit, but then the more rational part of my brain stepped in. I didn’t have a monopoly on that particular scent and who was I to tell someone I worked closely with that she was stealing my look just because she liked my perfume? Amy wasn’t looking at me anymore. Instead she was twisting the menu between her fingers and I felt a little ridiculous. Something was going on with her and I was being an asshole. I put my hand over hers, stilling her movement and she risked a look back up at me.

“No, I’m not,” I said, finally, and her face relaxed into a smile. Choosing to gloss over the whole incident, I pulled the menu out of her hands and more closely examined it. “I think I’m going to order the French 75.”

She nodded, “Good choice.”

As I texted Matt our drink orders, the general cacophony of the band tuning petered out and the flapper stepped on stage. She began crooning into the microphone as Matt hurried back over to our table, the bartender in tow, the three drinks balanced on a black tray in his hand. 

“Everyone this is Stephen,” Matt said, waving behind him to the bartender, nearly knocking the drinks over, “he is our bartender for the evening and he thinks it's cool that I own a bookstore.”

Stephen, a small, skinny redhead, smiled at Matt, genuine interest sparkling in his eyes. Silently, he placed our drinks in front of us, including something orange with an umbrella peeking out the top of it in front of Matt. Matt smirked at him and I felt a little bit like I had walked in on them kissing.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” Stephen said, his eyes lingering on Matt’s. When he turned to go, his fingers brushed Matt’s shoulder for the briefest moment. 

The moment he was far enough away, Matt leaned across the table, his eyes wide in excitement. I couldn’t help the giggle from bursting out from behind my lips.

“Matt, he’s so cute and he obviously likes you! What did you do? Tip him $50?”

He looked offended. “No, I am just a joy to be around,” he said, icily, “He said he gets off of his shift tonight at ten so we’re going to catch a late movie or something.”

He snuck a glance back at the bar where Stephen had returned. I could see him smirking slightly as he shook a cocktail shaker in one hand. Amy sipped her drink slowly, surveying us over the top of her glass. Matt had the decency to look a little sheepish, and patted her hand on the table.

“Don’t worry, Ames,” he said, twisting in his chair to survey the rest of the room, “We’ll find someone for you too.”

I shot Matt a glare, but, in the gloom, he missed it. I quickly glanced over at Amy who shrugged when she met my eye. She took a big gulp of her drink, smacking her lips as she dropped it back onto the table and turned towards me.

“How’s it going with Spencie?”

I rolled my eyes, thankful that she wasn’t letting Matt get to her. She had leaned over the table, focusing on the screen of my phone which had just lit up with a message from the genius himself. Behind the message, as my phone background, Spencer was curled up in the sheets of my bed, one arm looped loosely around Bruno. I had caught Spencer mid-laugh - his eyes crinkled and his mouth frozen open in a laugh I could hear echoing through my memories - and Bruno’s head was cocked slightly to the side at whatever noise I had made to get his attention.

“It’s - uh - it’s really good,” I said, sheepishly. Spencer hadn’t sent me much, but he always liked to send me random check ins while he was gone so I wouldn’t worry too much.

Amy was peeking over my shoulder at the message when I looked up from my phone. She recoiled slightly, looking a little embarrassed at being caught, but I didn’t say anything. I clicked my screen off and flipped it face down on the table.

“But this isn’t about me or my relationship,” I continued, “This is about Matt and his new relationship with Stephen.”

“You’re goddamn right it is,” Matt exclaimed, hoisting his glass. Realizing a second later, I lifted my glass to his. Amy, looking a little sullen again, followed soon after.

We cheersed, draining our glasses, and Matt twisted in his seat looking for Stephen for another round of drinks and flirting. As we drank and chatted, I tried to keep an eye on Amy, but as the alcohol swirled in my system and the dark bar seemed to darken even further as the night went on, it was difficult to keep tabs. Nevertheless, no matter how many rounds Matt bought us, the tight feeling in the pit of my stomach never seemed to go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry ya'll, Spencer will be back with Jemma next week! I hope you enjoyed this chapter in the mean time.
> 
> Also, I have exciting news...I've started planning the sequel to Everything! I'm not sure when exactly it will come out as I'm still finishing up this story, but I've had some extra plotlines between my favorite BAU agent and his favorite bookworm bouncing around in my brain and wrote them down in a new Google Doc. Soooooo keep on reading _Everything There is in the World is in Books_ and keep an eye out for the sequel to Jemma and Spencer's story, _What Little Things Can Make Up Happiness_ , coming to an AO3 near you soon!
> 
> As always I love hearing from you guys (follow me on [Tumblr](https://mslouhoo322.tumblr.com/) if you'd like)! Otherwise, happy Friday and happy February!


	22. Twenty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer helps Jemma finalize her grad school application and the team is called away to another case in Texas...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've moved around the Criminal Minds canon a little bit so, while the story as a whole is still around season 8, the next couple of chapters take place in season 9.

Bruno was whining excitedly as he scampered up the steps of Spencer’s apartment building. Hands full, it was all I could do to keep up with him and keep him from choking himself. Despite never having been to Spencer’s apartment, Bruno was quick to find the Doctor’s door, snuffling at the small gap at the bottom. I grinned to myself thinking of what exactly my excited, little dog could smell. Was it the smell of old books that I’d come to associate with Spencer or was it something else entirely?

It had been a long couple of weeks with Spencer jumping from case to case and flying all over the country. It seemed like every time we thought we had the time to see each other, Hotch was calling him moments before he stepped out the door on his way to meet me and then he was gone. My life had gotten pretty hectic as well - though not nearly as hectic as ‘BAU agent hunting serial killers’ hectic - as the deadline for my graduate school application was swiftly approaching. I had been writing furiously for weeks, but I couldn’t tell if what I had written was actually good or if I had just been staring at the same words for so long they had lost all meaning. What I needed was someone to double check my work, but I wasn’t entirely sure who. Matt would have teased me mercilessly when he realized I had written about how an FBI agent had changed my life and Amy was still in a weird fog that no amount of questioning could dissipate.

It wasn’t until I had received the note from my landlord that the city was needing to do some updates on the neighborhood around my apartment that I realized what I needed to do. With construction workers hammering constantly outside my window, I realized I would never be able to work, let alone sleep. When I told Spence about my predicament his response was quick.

“Come stay with me,” he had said, his voice crackling over the phone during one of our late night phone calls. It hadn’t taken much more convincing before I was throwing a few days worth of clothes into a bag, hoisting Bruno into my arms, and calling an Uber to help transport me and all my things towards Spencer’s apartment.

He must have been waiting for the sound of my footsteps on the stairs or maybe he heard the scratching noises of Bruno’s nails on the door because I had just lifted my fist to knock on the door when it swung open and I was face to face with Spencer Reid for the first time in what felt like forever.

He looked exhausted - the intense caseload obviously getting the better of him - but that didn’t stop the brilliant smile from growing across his face. Though we had made these plans days ago, he had apparently only beaten me to his own apartment by a few hours or so. I could see his go bag, still unpacked, on his kitchen counter and his living room curtains were still drawn, casting the whole apartment in a slight gloom. He pulled me immediately through the door, wrapping me in a tight hug I couldn’t return as my arms were still full of my bags. He didn’t seem to mind, pulling back only to cradle my face in his hands and kiss me.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said quickly in between kisses, “I just ordered us some take out from the Chinese place down the street.”

“You must be working on your mind reading skills,” I laughed, dropping my bags unceremoniously on the wood floors so I could snake my arms around his thin waist, dipping my hands underneath his light purple cardigan and pressing my palms through his thin button up shirt so I could feel the warmth of his skin.

Spencer laughed and smoothed a curl away from my face as he smiled down at me. I had forgotten just how much I missed that sound. 

“Still not a mind reader,” he replied, “I just know you very well.”

“As you should, how long has it been since I literally knocked you off your feet in the classics?” 

“One year, one month, and three days.”

“But who’s counting?”

Spencer’s grin was radiant as he bent to capture my lips with his one more time. This time the kiss was slow and loaded with emotion and something else I couldn’t quite place. I tried to catch his eye when he pulled away, but he was already focused on the fuzzball on the floor. Bruno had been racing in loud circles around our feet, his collar jingling. When Spencer crouched down to meet him, the dog stopped, his small pink tongue out in an emphatic pant. For a moment the two just stared at each other and then Bruno took off down the hallway, in search of a toy or simply investigating his new surroundings. I could hear him skittering across the hardwood floors and, every now and then, I could see a flash of gray and golden brown as he careened from one room to the next. Spencer pushed himself off the floor, his knees popping softly. When he turned back to me he had a sparkle in his eye that had me blushing. 

“Let me get your bags,” he said, bending again to pick up my forgotten bags.

“You don’t have to do that -,” I started, but he silenced me with a single look.

He hoisted my backpack onto his shoulder and heaved my heavy duffel bag onto one arm. We left Bruno’s kennel and his small bag of dog toys and dog food in the hallway as Spencer directed me towards what I assumed was his bedroom.

I hadn’t seen much of his apartment the last time I had been there. It had only been long enough for him to shower and freshen up and I had spent most of the time a world away in one of the many books on his bookshelves. This time I allowed my eyes to wander. 

If there was such a thing as forgetful professor decor, Spencer probably would have been the first investor. I could see several piles of books on the coffee table in the open living room where Spencer had either attempted to read or had finished each copy and hadn’t had the time to reshelve it with the others. His kitchen was tiny, but mostly immaculate - though there was a single cookbook thrown half-hazardly next to the sink. It alone looked to be the only book that hadn’t been cracked open. I chuckled quietly to myself as I wondered how often the Doctor had even used the stove. 

He ducked into a room at the end of the hallway - Bruno clicking softly behind us - and dropped my bags onto the neatly made bed. Much like my own bedroom his bedside table was stacked with another pile of books and a small picture of who must have been his mother. I had seen her in several pictures on his desk at the BAU, but this one was saved especially for home. I stepped forward and plucked it off the table to examine it more closely.

It was one of his graduations, though I wasn’t entirely sure which one. Based on the hood on his graduation gown it was one of his doctorate degrees, but his face was so youthful - the baby fat still clinging to his cheeks - I couldn’t make myself believe that boy was a doctor. Even behind the thick rimmed glasses I could see he was almost a carbon copy of the woman hugging him tightly around his shoulders. Her smile was just as radiant as the one he had greeted me with just a few moments before, but I could see some other emotion behind the joy in her eyes. 

“That’s my mom,” he murmured, quietly. He had stolen forward on quiet feet to look at the picture over my shoulder.

“She looks so proud of you,” I whispered back, “I mean - obviously - who wouldn’t be proud of you?”

I heard his soft laugh - a huff of air out his nose. He bent further over my shoulder to peer closer at the picture. The next time he spoke it was so quiet I realized he was talking more to himself than to me, “She had just started new medication. She was so terrified, but refused to miss my graduation.”

There was a degree of pain in his voice that had me reaching back to find his hand. The second my fingers curled around his I squeezed and I felt his body relax into mine. He took a deep breath and pulled the photo out of my hands to study the dusty smiles within the frame.

“My mother is a diagnosed schizophrenic,” he replied at last, his eyes still on the photo, “but she did her best to make sure that it never got in the way of important moments in my life.” His eyes darted to mine and away. “That’s one of the reasons why I threw myself into studying behavior and the brain. I was going to find a cure to help my mom.”

While he was lost in his memories I studied his profile. There was a soft smile curving his lips and I could see his thumb swipe across his mother’s face. Without thinking I reached up to run my fingers through the curls in his hair. The feeling pulled his gaze away from the frame and back to me.

“You are unbelievable, Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

I stood on my tiptoes to press a light kiss to his lips. “It’s a very good thing.”

It wasn’t until after my clothes had been unpacked, Bruno’s kennel had been placed out of major traffic areas in the apartment, and the Chinese food delivered that I got up the courage to bring up my grad school application with Spencer. I had convinced him to eat at the coffee table, sitting criss cross with our knees just barely touching, Bruno sniffing hopefully at our fingers. We had spent the evening exchanging stories of our time apart. 

“I’ve actually been spending a lot of time working on my application,” I said, picking apart an eggroll and avoiding eye contact.

“Really? How’s it going?”

“Well,” I sighed, putting tiny pieces of the destroyed eggroll to my mouth to buy myself some time, “I think I’m done, but I need someone to edit it. I thought about asking Matt or Amy, but you’re the one with three degrees.”

He looked surprised when I snuck a glare at him. “You want me to read it?”

I shrugged, “You don’t have to. I know you’re really busy.”

“No, no, I want to!” He scooted himself back from the coffee table and dusted his hands off. “Please, let me read it.”

I paused, my courage failing me for a brief moment. One look at his face had my heart faltering. His face was lit up with what I could only describe as adoration and a joy in being able to help someone. It struck me suddenly that there were few times he had been able to help someone that didn’t involve finding a loved one’s murderer. I nodded, popping the last of my eggroll in my mouth, and pulled myself to my feet to locate my laptop.

I could see my fingers just barely shaking as I opened the document I had saved in triplicate. I scrolled through it a few times feeling my heart pounding in my chest. Finally, I took a deep breath and handed the computer over to him. He looked a little lost holding the technology, but after he gave an experimental push of his fingers across the mousepad he settled in, squinting at the bright screen.

“Be gentle, ok?” I attempted to joke, “I worked really hard at it.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes jokingly in my direction. “I make no promises.”

I could only watch him reading my inner thoughts for a split second - his eyes scanning quickly from left to right, his fingers lightly tracing over the computer screen, and his lips murmuring quietly to himself - and turned back to the mess I had made on my plate. He read so fast it only took a few moments, but I didn’t realize he had reached the end of the document until I heard his gust of air as he let out a breath I didn’t realize he had been holding.

“You wrote about me,” he stated, simply.

I couldn’t get a read on his emotion so I cleared my throat and nodded.

“Uh - yeah.”

“Why?”

“You told me to write about what I know and - I guess - I know you. Once I got started writing it was hard to stop. I don’t even know if it answers the prompt.”

“But why me?”

We blinked at each other. His face was still unreadable, but the pounding in my heart was slowly steadying and I was beginning to understand the gleam behind his eyes. The jury was still out on how good or bad my essay was, but he wasn’t mad or upset. He was confused, and that confusion broke my heart.

“Because you’re the strongest and bravest person I know. I needed everyone else to know about you.” I glanced down at my hands, twisting my fingers anxiously. “I didn’t put any details about what happened with Tobias - that’s definitely not my story to tell - but I had to share the story of the guy who met a girl in a bookstore, stops serial killers on a daily basis, and encourages me to be a better person no matter where in the world he is.”

He studied me for a few more moments and then turned back to the screen, his eyes scanning quickly as he reread. When his eyes met mine again they were shining and his arms were reaching for me.

“So it’s good?” I asked before he wrapped me fully in an embrace.

He laughed, nodding. I smoothed my hand across his cheek, curling my fingers around his neck as he bent to kiss me. I felt his hands spread up my back underneath my sweatshirt and we slowly tipped back to the floor, pulling me on top of him. 

“It is very good,” was his murmured response before our voices dissolved into sighs.

* * *

The sun had barely crested the horizon when I opened my eyes the next morning, its dusty rays shining across the rumpled sheets of Spencer’s bed. At first I thought that’s what had woken me, but then I heard the panicked shuffling of a man doing his best to dress quickly while staying quiet. Whatever he had been attempting had not worked, I cracked open an eye to see Spencer picking himself up off the ground. He had tripped over some of our discarded clothing and the resounding thump had set Bruno off barking.

“You ok?” I asked, sleepily

“I’m fine,” he responded, quickly, “You can go back to sleep.”

I snuggled deeper into the warm sheets and listened to him shuffling back and forth from the bedroom to the bathroom.

“You oversleep?” I called out, peeking open one eye to catch him duck his head out of the doorway.

“Yeah.” He sounded out of breath as he stuffed a toothbrush in his mouth, “You are dangerous to wake up next to.”

I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped my lips and we grinned at each other from either side of the doorway.

“I don’t see how any of this is my fault,” I called back, pulling the sheets up closer to my chin and shifting onto his side of the bed to watch him finish getting ready.

He spat into the sink and I heard the water running as he rinsed. He exited the bathroom, straightening his plum tie and buttoning the gray cardigan up to just below the knot. A moment of calm fell between us as he sat on the bed next to me, the mattress sinking just enough to roll me closer to him. He reached for the watch on his bedside table and strapped it to his wrist on top of the cardigan sleeve. I took the chance to lift a hand to his cheek and pull his face to mine. He melted into me almost immediately and I could feel just how difficult pulling himself away had been this morning. His hands cradled my face as he pulled a few more kisses from my lips and then he practically forced himself away from me.

“I have to go,” he whispered, smirking at my groan, “but I should be back tonight as long as we don’t get called away on a case.”

“Be safe, Doc,” I murmured, sleep already pulling my eyes closed, “I love you.”

Even mostly asleep I could hear the grin in his voice as he replied, “I love you too.”

* * *

Bruno was curled at the foot of the bed snoring when I woke up next. The apartment was mostly silent - though I could hear the thumping from some distant tenant’s radio - and it took me a moment to remember exactly where I was. I stretched, pulling my arms tight above my head and pointing my toes towards the doorway, as I reveled in the quiet and the contentment of waking up alone in a place shared with a loved one. Spencer had apparently tried on several cardigan combinations before he had left despite being late. I counted three different colored sweaters tossed over the chair in the corner as I slowly sat up in bed. 

The kitchen smelled of richly brewed coffee as I padded softly into the room, pulling one of Spencer’s sweaters tightly around me. He had thrown open the curtains before he left as well and the sunlight was streaming into the living room, the dust from his bookshelves dancing in the light beams. There was a sticky note stuck to the coffee machine and I laughed at his chicken scratch as I bent to read it.

_Jem -_

_Mugs are to the right of the sink. Creamer is in the fridge. Sugar is on the counter.._

_I will see you when I get home. Love you..._

_-Spence_

I smiled, running a finger over the word ‘ _home_ .’ Sparing another glance at the quiet library around me, I could feel a warmth building in my chest. _Home_. It had a nice ring to it. I found a mug - covered in cats and quotes from famous philosophers that must have been a graduation gift from some adoring professor - and fixed myself a mug of coffee. I leaned against the counter smiling like an idiot at nothing wondering if I’d ever find contentment like this again. I heard Bruno hit the floor, his nails clicking against the hardwood, as he came in search of me. Years of taking care of him had me in tune with most things he wanted and the big, brown eyed stare was nothing new.

“Do you want to go outside?” I asked, in my embarrassing Dog Mom voice.

He spun in three tight circles and darted towards the front door. I chuckled to myself, took one more sip of coffee, and headed back into the bedroom to put some real clothes on before I went out into the real world. It was then that I saw it - Spencer’s satchel - tucked into the corner of one of his armchairs nearly blending in with the fabric. I had almost never seen Spencer without it and I knew it would only be a matter of time before he realized what he was missing. 

“Come on, Bud,” I said to Bruno, after I had put on some real pants and hooked him up to his leash, “let’s take care of your business. Then I gotta run some errands.”

* * *

The building was a little less imposing during the day time. There were still scores of impressive looking agents sauntering in and strutting out of the building, but something about seeing the old building in the light took away the mystique that had intimidated me the first time I had been there. I felt a little ridiculous - Spencer’s satchel banging against my hip under my own purse, and my arms full of the box of muffins I had bought on a whim at a bodega near the metro stop - but no one spared me a glance. The security guard remembered me from the last time I had been there and made pleasant conversation with me while he called up to the BAU’s floor to confirm I was cleared to visit. I wondered idly who he had connected with as he handed me a visitor’s badge and ushered me towards the elevators behind him.

My question was answered almost immediately when I was ambushed by Penelope as soon as the doors slid open. She was in a tight, bright pink dress that matched her lipstick, and I caught sight of two light pink pom poms in her hair before she wrapped me up in another hug.

“Jemma! It’s you! I haven’t seen you in forever! Are you here visiting Spencer? I assume you are, but I couldn’t find the Boy Wonder when they called from downstairs so I just buzzed you up, but I’m so glad you’re here!” She was talking a mile a minute and it wasn’t until she had started to pull me towards the glass doors to the bullpen before she realized what I was holding. “Are those muffins? Did you get us muffins? You are my favorite SSA Significant Other, but don’t tell Will.”

It was impossible to get a word in edgewise, but I didn’t mind. I had missed her and every member of the team which was one of the main reasons why I had jumped at the chance to bring Spencer his bag in person. She was sparing no juicy detail explaining to me all the gossip on the floor despite the fact that I only knew the names of Spencer’s team. I could see them all grouped around his pod of desks, chatting casually, and my heart sped at the sight of his curly hair towering above the rest of them - I had got it bad, and if I wasn’t enjoying it so much I might have been embarrassed.

As though he could feel my eyes on him, Spencer found me immediately. I watched his face light up in surprise, excitement, and then a little wrinkle of confusion. Next to me, Penelope knocked her arm into mine, chuckling at the blush warming my cheeks. Morgan was the next one to register my presence as we crossed the floor. He followed the lovestruck gaze of Spencer across the room and was the first to meet us, bounding forward in two steps.

“Baby Girl and Baby Genius!” he called, stepping in between us to pull his arms across both our shoulders and walk with us the rest of the way, “What a sight for sore eyes.”

“Hi Derek,” I replied, leaning my head against his shoulder for a brief moment in greeting, “How have things been since I saw you last? Still breaking hearts and taking names?”

He laughed, “Only yours, Sugar.”

Penelope knocked her hip into his and the three of us stumbled slightly as he tumbled back against me. “Hey now, _I’m_ your Baby Girl.”

Derek threw up his hands in placation and stepped away from us, still laughing. “You’re right, you’re right, Baby Girl. Besides I think the Boy Wonder has dibs.”

“I’m not going to even begin to get into the misogynistic problems with claiming that I have ‘dibs’ on any woman,” Spencer responded, stepping forward with JJ and Rossi, “but if dibs was even something that could be taken into consideration in this particular instance I think I do have more of a chance then you do, Morgan.”

Rossi pulled me into a hug, planting a kiss on both my cheeks, while Morgan pointed a half-threatening finger at Spencer’s smug face. JJ skirted around the men to wrap one arm around my waist in a side hug and bent to examine the muffins in my arms.

“Did you come all this way just to bring us treats?” she said, plucking the box from my arms to rifle through the contents.

“Well, the treats are just a bonus,” I started, locking eyes with Spencer as the rest of the group bent over the box in JJ’s hands, “I’m just dropping something off for Spence.”

Morgan looked up at that and examined me. When his eyes fell on the satchel still resting on my hip, his eyebrows shot up his forehead and he snuck a gleeful look back at Spencer.

“Oh, I see, the Doctor made a house call last night and left your place a little late this morning, huh?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows in between us. Penelope, muffin in hand, reached over to slap him across the bicep.

“No, he left it at his place actually,” I said, grinning as I watched the blush spread up Spencer’s neck into his face. I pulled my eyes away from his to wink at Derek, “It’s a good thing I was still there this morning.”

JJ and Penelope both choked into their muffins, Rossi rolled his eyes pretending he hadn't heard a thing, and Derek let out a loud whoop of laughter before clapping a thoroughly red Spencer on the back. He was shaking his head at me, but the smile playing at his lips told me he wasn’t mad, just embarrassed. I shrugged and mouthed ‘ _sorry_ ’ at him even though I knew I didn’t look a single bit apologetic.

“What’s going on? Did I miss the muffins?”

Dr. Alex Blake was the last person I expected to see when I turned towards the familiar voice, but there she was with an official FBI badge pinned to the lapel of her blazer.

“Jemma?” she asked, sounding just as incredulous as I felt, “What are you doing here?”

“Dr. Blake!” I called, stepping forward as she opened her arms for a hug, “I didn’t know you were a member of the BAU now.”

“I just transferred to the unit. I thought I needed a little change of scenery though I am going to miss teaching.”

“Linguistics 504!” I crowed, as the rest of the team watched in surprised silence, “I loved that class. You’ve joined a great team, but there’s a whole class of students who are going to be disappointed to not be able to take your class!”

Alex swung her hair off her shoulder as she tossed her head back to laugh. Spencer took the moment to interject.

“You two know each other?”

I smiled back at him, “Yeah, I took Dr. Blake’s linguistics course when I was just starting out at GWU,” I darted a glance back at the woman beside me. “Her course was one of my favorite classes I’d ever taken.”

She waved a dismissive hand, “How have your studies been? You should be done now, right? Or are you graduating soon?”

My gaze dipped to my toes and I twisted at my fingers, “Well, I actually had to take some time off for a family emergency, but Spence is helping me get back in -,” I snuck another glance at Spencer and we both shared shy smiles at the memory of the night before, “I actually just put the finishing touches on my application back into the program.”

“That’s wonderful!” Alex clapped one hand on my shoulder and squeezed, “Let me know if you need any help. I’m happy to pull a few strings.”

I felt the subtle anxious feeling that I had been carrying since I opened up that application ease just barely and I let out a quick breath of relief. “Wow, thank you so much.”

She looked like she wanted to say more, but at that moment the door to Hotch’s office opened and he stepped out, leaning heavily against the metal railing. He nodded a quiet greeting to me and then turned his stormy gaze on the rest of the team.

“We’ve got a case in Texas. Briefing in five minutes.”

The team was moving before he had even stopped speaking. It was like a switch had been flipped and they were all back in professional mode. Penelope was talking quickly to herself as she hustled back out the door towards her lair and JJ, Morgan, and Alex all stepped back towards their desks to gather anything they needed for the upcoming meeting. Rossi was already headed towards the stairs, his eyes on Hotch. Only Spencer stayed with me in the sudden stream of chaos. He looked apologetic, his lips stretched in a tight smile. I mirrored the expression and shrugged.

“Serial killers never sleep.”

He nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Let me walk you out.”

We fell into step next to each other as we walked back across the bullpen and out the glass doors. It wasn’t until we reached the elevator and I pressed the call button that either one of us spoke.

“I’m sorry I have to go away again,” he said, quietly.

I shrugged, “I know it’s part of the job.”

As the rest of the office moved around us, I saw Spencer sneak a glance back through the glass doors. I followed his gaze only to see Morgan and JJ quickly pretend to be reviewing a file. Spencer sighed.

“I’m never going to hear the end of it thanks to you.”

“I am not even the least bit sorry about that,” I responded, “You’re cute when you blush.”

He smiled and ducked his head. Out of the corner of my eye I could see JJ and Morgan watching, the folder hanging forgotten from JJ’s fingers. Remembering suddenly, I pulled the satchel over my head and handed it to Spencer. He twisted the strap in his fingers, gnawing at his lip. I reached across the divide between us and stilled the movement.

“I’ll keep your apartment safe for when you get home,” My fingers tightened around his momentarily and his eyes met mine, “Stay safe ok?”

He nodded and stepped suddenly closer to me, curling his arm around my waist and kissing me for a quick moment that was over too soon. I briefly saw Morgan raise his arms in the air as though he had just scored a touchdown and then Spencer was stepping away as the elevator door dinged open. Wordlessly, I stepped inside, my eyes never leaving his. I gave him a small wave which he returned before the doors slid completely closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday AND Valentine's Weekend everyone! I hope you are spending the weekend safely with your loved ones or taking care of yourself. Don't forget that there's discount Valentine's candy tomorrow!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter - I know I enjoyed writing it! Also, what the heck is a timeline in this show, I mean really? I've been occasionally re-watching episodes from seasons 7 and 8 of Criminal Minds because, somehow, this show of catching serial killers is my comfort show. The crazy thing is I can now see Jemma in between the lines of each episode. It's kinda crazy and also kinda awesome.
> 
> It's supposed to be like -35 degrees this weekend so I'm not going to be leaving my house for a good couple of days. Hopefully I can get some more writing done! Have a great weekend everybody!


	23. Twenty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma gets bad news...

“Ok Amy, tell me,” Matt said, half-paying attention to the books he was sorting through at the counter, “who is your perfect man?”

“ _Matt,_ ” I hissed, trying to direct him to a different topic. The old Amy had slowly started to return, but there were still sullen moments where I worried about her. Matt rolled his eyes at me and waved a dismissive hand my way.

Amy leaned heavily against the counter, her chin propped up in her hand as she thought. She had arrived in the store an hour before we closed despite the fact that she was not scheduled to work. When we had teased her about it - who in their right mind would spend any part of their day off at their place of employment? - she had simply shrugged and told us she didn’t have anywhere else to be. The last few hours had been slow anyways so Matt had spent his time playing twenty questions with her in an attempt to get to know her better. It hadn’t taken him long to ask about her love life. 

“My perfect man?” she murmured, more to herself than to us. She tapped a finger against her lips and sighed, “Is there even such a thing?”

“True that,” Matt replied and I knocked my hip into his. He scowled at me and continued, “but seriously, Ames, you haven’t met anyone while you’ve been here?”

Her eyes flickered to mine for a brief moment and then away. She shook her head, avoiding both of our gazes. Far from being discouraged, Matt suddenly smirked.

"You’re lying to us,” he said at last and her eyes darted up to meet his. “You _have_ met someone.”

She glared at him for a moment before letting out a low chuckle. “I didn’t say that.”

Matt scanned a book, inputting its info into our system and slid it down the counter towards me for shelving. He surveyed Amy across the counter.

“You didn’t have to,” he said at last, looking smug, “I can read it all in your body language. Jemma might be dating a profiler, but I know a thing or two about when people are hiding something.”

Amy rolled her eyes and laughed again, “I highly doubt that, Matthew. Anyways, I’m neither confirming or denying your suspicion, but if I _had_ met someone would you blame me for keeping them a secret? I’ve seen how you handle Jemma and Spencie.”

Matt pouted and he snuck a glance my way. Snickering, I shrugged my shoulders.

“She has a point, you know,” I offered and it was his turn to knock his shoulder into mine. “Speaking of relationships, how are things between you and Stephen the bartender?”

He waved a dismissive hand.

“We both work way too much for something serious, but I see him occasionally when I find the time.” He scanned another book and I couldn’t help but chuckle at his careful nonchalance. 

He had been talking about Stephen for weeks, unable to keep himself from mentioning the bartender’s name even in the most menial of conversations, but Matt had always been notoriously protective of his relationships so I bit my tongue. He snuck another glance at me and must have seen the teasing glimmer in my eyes because he quickly changed subjects.

“How has the grad school application been going?” he asked, “You’ve only been working on it for months now.”

“I submitted it,” I replied, feeling my heart swell in my chest alongside the feeling of my stomach dropping to my toes.

I had submitted the application in the early hours of the morning, with Spencer hovering anxiously beside me via FaceTime. The whole experience had been strange as it took several tries for Spencer to figure out how his phone’s camera even worked. Then, while battling technical issues - both user error and a lack of proper internet - he had had to talk me off a cliff as I couldn’t seem to make myself hit submit. Only when he was called away to check out a crime scene did I scrape up enough courage to click the button. Our goodbye was hurried and the bland “thank you for your application” email I received a few moments later was an odd anti-climactic moment which had set me on edge for the rest of the day.

Matt looked impressed, “I’m going to be totally honest with you, I wasn’t entirely sure you’d go through with it.”

I laughed humorlessly, “I wasn’t entirely sure myself. Anyways, the advisor I’ve been in contact with said they’d review my application soon and I’d probably hear back within two to four weeks, but I’ve been checking my phone like every hour just in case I got an email from them.”

“So if you get in are you going to leave the Raven?” Amy’s voice was small and she looked a little lost, curling around herself at the counter.

I exchanged a glance with Matt.

“Not immediately,” I responded at last, “If I get back into the program I plan on working part time while I’m in class and maybe after I graduate depending on what jobs in the publishing industry look like.”

She nodded quietly, but said nothing more. I leaned across the counter to gently grab her hand. She jumped at the sudden contact and I smiled at her.

“You know that we can still hang out even when I don’t work here anymore, right?”

There was a beat of silence that slowly soured into awkwardness. Matt, hating the sound of silence, was the first to break.

“Absolutely not. Once you’re gone you’re dead to us,” he said in mock seriousness that had us all snorting in laughter.

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into a side hug. Across from us Amy simply laughed, the awkward tension broken. Our hands were still joined on the counter and her fingers tightened around mine for a moment. It was like gathering with family and I could feel myself grinning as Matt cracked a couple more jokes for Amy’s benefit. When my phone began to buzz I could feel the tension shoot back up to the roof. Was this George Washington University? Had I somehow been banned from the program? Were they calling to make fun of my essay response? The number was unknown which only heightened my anxiety - who else would be calling me from a Virginia number? I spared a glance at Matt and Amy, silently watching me, and stepped away from the counter.

“Hello?”

“Jemma,” Penelope’s frantic voice momentarily calmed my racing heart before it kicked back into gear again. _The team was in Texas. Why was she calling me?_ “Something’s happened.”

Now suddenly on top of the pit in my stomach and my heart in my throat, my vision was narrowing and I threw out a hand to brace myself against the counter and keep my knees from buckling.

“Penelope, what’s going on?” I could hear my shaky voice reply. 

Her voice was full of tears when she responded. I could hear the sound as though she were speaking through a tunnel.

“Jemma, Spencer’s been shot.”

Matt caught me before I hit the ground, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and pulling me back towards the back office. Amy hung back anxiously, unsure of what to do. I could vaguely hear him tell her to man the front desk as he sat me in one of the ratty office chairs and hurried away with promises of a glass of water. Penelope was still speaking to me on the phone, but I couldn’t hear her voice. Finally, I found mine.

“Is he -,” I couldn’t finish the question, my throat tightening. This was the bank all over again.

“No,” Penelope replied with a sudden stubbornness, “No, and I refuse to believe that anything else will happen to him, but Hotch has requested that I join the team in Texas and, if you can get here in the next twenty minutes, I think I can bring you with me.”

I didn’t even give it a second thought, pulling myself out of the chair before she had barely finished her sentence. It didn’t matter to me that I didn’t have a go bag or anything other than the clothes on my back; I had to be where Spencer was. I nearly collided with Matt on my way out of the back office, the water in his hand sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the cup.

“Spencer has been shot,” I whispered, unable to make my voice any louder, “Penelope can get me to him. I have to go.”

He surveyed me for a beat and then nodded. “Of course. Go.”

When he pulled me into a tight hug I almost broke, but I choked down the sob that threatened to break free. His eyes searched my face for a moment and then he stepped back and I was out the door. I barely noticed Amy watching me on my way out and into the open air.

* * *

“Tea?”

Before I could answer Penelope had placed the steaming cup on the small table in front of me. I turned away from the darkened plane window just as she settled into the seat next to me. I had arrived at the BAU with minutes to spare, meeting Penelope at the glass doors to the BAU and hustling down to the airfield with her in a shocked silence. If the agents helping us load into the plane thought it strange that a civilian visitor was joining the BAU’s top Technical Analyst in an otherwise empty plane they didn’t say anything and within fifteen minutes of boarding we were soaring amongst the clouds.

“Are you going to get in trouble for bringing me with you?” I asked in a quiet voice as I reached out for the cup in front of me.

Penelope hummed a little as she considered and shrugged.

“Maybe, but I couldn’t just leave you in Virginia when your Boy Genius needs you in Texas.” She took a sip of her own tea and gave me a small smile. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine with whatever heat gets thrown my way.”

The tight feeling in my chest hadn’t loosened since Penelope’s original call, but it felt a little bit more manageable with her beside me. I took a deep breath, steadying myself.

“I always knew this was a possibility,” I said at last, “but preparing for something like this is not the same as living through it. I feel like I can’t breathe.” I snuck a glance back at Penelope. She looked just as stricken as I felt. “How do you do it? How do you handle your team - your family - going into these dangerous situations? What do you do when one of them ends up on the operating table?”

Penelope reached for my hand and I clutched at it, my fingers tight around hers. I could see fear in her eyes as she replied.

“It is not easy, but nothing in this job ever is,” she whispered. I could see the tears shining in her eyes. “Every time they leave I pray to whatever entity watches over them and every time they come back I make sure they know how much they mean to me. They all have survived so much - Reid included - and I know they can survive this.”

She turned towards me, clasping my hands in between hers.

“He’s going to be ok, I know it,” she said fiercely, “He has survived so much and now he has so much more to live for. He’s always had me and the team and he’s always had his mom, but now he has you and he’s not going to give that up so easily.”

I could feel the tears rolling hot down my face and I swiped angrily at them. My throat was tight and I couldn’t make myself utter a sound so I simply nodded. Penelope seemed to understand, her own tears slipping down her cheeks and for a moment we sat in silence, our hands clasped tightly together and our thoughts with the people we loved most in the world. I imagine we would have stayed that way until the plane touched down, but Penelope - always needed - was pulled away by a phone call from Hotch. When she stepped away in search of her computer I turned back to the inky blackness of the sky outside the window. I could see the twinkling lights of a passing city in the distance and sent a silent prayer up to whoever was listening.

* * *

The hospital was a bustle of motion when we made it in. Penelope immediately stepped forward to the harassed looking nurse behind the counter to check up on Spencer while I stood uncertainly in the middle of what felt like a constant stream of harried healthcare workers. It wasn’t hard to spot JJ, Hotch, Derek, and Alex; they were clumped together in the hallway looking serious and stoic. Morgan had his arm in a sling, but, despite wincing slightly at the movement of his shoulder, he looked just as fierce and unstoppable as ever. It was the first time I had seen them all in the field and the difference was astounding. They were speaking quietly, their voices lost to the chaos around them, but I could tell they were bouncing ideas off of each other. Only when Penelope finished her conversation with the nurse and hurried forward to join them did they realize I was there. Hotch’s mouth tightened into a thin line and he met Penelope in the middle.

“Garcia, why is Jemma here?” he asked quietly. I hadn’t spent much time with the unit chief, but the subtle disappointment in his voice made me realize just how intimidating Aaron Hotchner could be.

Penelope spared me a quick glance, but I stepped forward before she could answer.

“I heard about Spence,” I replied, surprised at the strength in my own voice, “I won’t get in your way. I’m just here to help.”

He surveyed me silently for a moment, Penelope glancing anxiously between us. Behind Hotch the rest of the team watched us. I did my best to ignore the looks in their eyes, but it was impossible to miss the tightness in JJ’s jaw or the way that Derek’s fist kept squeezing and releasing at his side. Alex had sunk into a chair nearby, her head in her hands. I felt the breath leave my lungs when I noticed the dark smear of red drying on the back of her hand. Hotch followed my gaze and his lips tightened even further.

“Fine,” he said at last. He turned back to Penelope, “Garcia, you stay here. You have your computer, right?” When Penelope nodded he continued, “We’ll keep you updated on the case and call you if we need anything.” 

He turned back to me and reached for my shoulder, squeezing tightly and pulling me away from the drying blood on Blake’s hands. “Spencer is still in surgery. The nurse I spoke to said it would be another couple of hours before he’s out. If you want, we can take you to the hotel and you can get some rest -,”

“No. I’m staying here until Spencer can walk out with me.” I glared up at him. I could see him studying me and I half expected him to insist I leave with him, but then he nodded and stepped back, waiving me towards the waiting room seats and the rest of the team.

Morgan pulled me into a hug the moment I was close enough to him, careful not to jostle his injured arm. I felt him drop a kiss onto my hair and I allowed myself to lean into him for a brief second. 

“He’s going to be ok,” he murmured, “He’s a strong kid and he has to be ok.”

Alex was still sitting by herself and, now that I was closer to her, I could see her hands were trembling. She seemed to realize suddenly that a streak of Spencer’s blood was splattered across her skin and began scrubbing vigorously at it. I pulled myself away from Derek and sank into the seat next to her. When she looked up at me her eyes were wild.

“You saved him, didn’t you?” I asked.

She didn’t say anything at first, but then nodded. “He was right next to me when it happened. He pushed me out of the way. It was so sudden and there was so much blood -,”

I wrapped my hands around her still trembling fingers. She had scrubbed most of the blood off, but she couldn’t seem to stop wringing her hands, scratching viciously at the skin. At the pressure of my hands on hers she stopped and her eyes met mine again.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

Speechless, her lips pressed into a tight line that resembled Hotch and something behind her eyes hardened. When Hotch approached the team with orders to return to the precinct the shake in her fingers was gone. At their unit chief’s insistence, JJ and Alex were back in profiler mode. JJ gave me a tight nod before she and Alex headed towards the exit, their heeled boots clicking loudly even in the bustling hallway. Only Derek seemed hesitant to leave, first leveling his gaze at me and then at Penelope, standing anxiously behind me, her hands twisting.

“We’ll be ok, Derek,” I murmured and I reached back to find Penelope's. She trotted forward and offered him a small, comforting smile, “We’ll let you know when he’s out of surgery.”

He took another moment, obviously torn between staying with us and following the still stoic looking Hotch towards the exit. Finally, Morgan came to a decision and gave a tight nod.

“The second he’s out you let me know, ok?” he pleaded, the strain in his voice incredibly evident.

“You’ll be our first call,” Penelope chimed in.

He nodded once more, turned on his heel and followed Hotch out the door. Once he and the rest of the team was gone I felt my composure crumble and I sank back down into the waiting room chair. Penelope didn’t say another word, slowly lowering herself into the chair next to me where Alex had been. The buzzing of the fluorescent lights burned into my brain and I pressed the palms of my hands into my eyes, welcoming the dark. I took a deep breath - _one...two...three...four_ \- held it - _one...two...three...four_ \- and let it go - _one...two...three...four...five._ When I opened my eyes to the bright lights again the anxiety that had been clawing its way up my throat had sunk back down to the pit of my stomach. I took another deep breath and slouched back into the chair. Beside me, Penelope was rigid, her eyes staring unfocused at nothing across the waiting room. Not trusting myself to speak, I reached out for her hand once again and squeezed. Her returning pressure was almost too hard to bear.

* * *

The passing of time slowed to a crawl while we waited. I supposed hours had passed, but every time I checked the clock it seemed like the minute hand had stopped completely. Occasionally a nurse would come check on us and update us on where Spencer was, but the news almost never changed. He was still in surgery and there was no change in his condition. He wasn’t out of the woods yet and the gnawing worry that he would never make it out had me up out of my chair pacing in tight lines. 

The team checked in every now and then, Derek more than anyone else, but even Rossi had reached out asking specifically for me when Penelope answered the phone. I couldn’t seem to make my voice work, but he seemed to know when I had pressed the phone to my ear.

“Jemma, the kid has more strength in his left pinkie finger than most men have in their entire bodies. He’s going to make it through this. You just have to hang in there.”

I had whispered something to him - my brain barely connected to my mouth - and handed the phone back to Penelope so I could resume my pacing. It was only after she had hung up that she coaxed me back down into the seat beside her and encouraged me to get some rest. It was a laughable request, there was no way I could close my eyes let alone sleep, but I humored her and settled back down next to her, my knee bouncing uncontrollably. 

Perhaps I was more exhausted than I realized because, in what felt like a sudden blink of an eye, the entire world shifted. The growing sunlight had moved across the floor and the clock at the end of the hall told me that several hours had passed. I had the sour taste of restless sleep in my mouth and the base of my spine ached where I had slumped over onto Penelope’s shoulder.

“Good you’re awake,” Penelope was murmuring, craning her neck to see my face, “I think Reid is out of surgery.”

It was like a bolt of lightning shot through my veins. I launched myself out of the chair and resumed my pacing.

“Where is he?” I asked and Penelope pointed down the hall to an approaching doctor. He looked tired, but his smile was warm as he came near.

“Dr. Reid is resting comfortably,” he started and I felt my knees nearly give out, “He’s still out from the anesthesia, and there is still a small risk of infection, but I’m confident he will make a full recovery. We’ve moved him to a room just down the hall and I’d be happy to walk you there.” 

I had already started moving toward the direction the doctor pointed and he and Penelope hurried to catch up with me. We stopped at a closed door with a window and, even though I could only see the two lumps of his feet, I felt my heart stop. The doctor, watching the emotions ripple across my face, reached out to squeeze my arm.

“He’s a very lucky man, you know.”

Throat tight, I blinked hard and took a deep breath. Penelope was close on my heels when I pulled open the door. The room was deathly quiet, just the muffled beeps of the heart monitor. I could feel one tear slip onto my cheek as I stepped closer to the body in the bed.

His throat was wrapped tightly in bandages and he looked pale in the dimmed lights. His curly brown hair had flopped over one eye. I realized he was in dire need of a haircut and had to clamp down on the laugh that threatened to bubble out - _what was wrong with me?_ I located a chair close to the head of the bed, gently pushing the curl out of his face, grazing a thumb across his thankfully warm cheek. I could hear Penelope sniffing as she settled into another chair on the other side of the room and caught a glimpse of her wiping away a tear. I bent over Spencer and placed a kiss on his forehead before I tucked my hand into his and sunk into the chair to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look I know I said this is a happier Spencer, but I didn't say it would be completely happy for Jemma...I kid, I kid, but like re-watching these episodes there was not enough FEAR for Spencer's life. The guy got shot in the freaking NECK, but only Alex really seemed freaked out about it. 
> 
> Anyhoo, I loved writing this chapter and the next few because I'm a masochist and I'm glad you are all here for the ride!


	24. Twenty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer recovers from his gunshot wound and Jemma becomes an unofficial agent of a sort...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I was too excited to wait until Friday to post this. I've been talking myself out of posting it ALL DAY, but then had a realization. If posting a chapter early makes me happy then why should I wait? So happy Wednesday from me to you!

Spencer’s throat burned. He swallowed hard, but it was like swallowing fire. He tried to cry out, but, though he could feel his vocal chords straining, he could make no sound. The world around him was dark and full of shadowy figures and he wondered where his team had gone. In the distance of whatever nightmarish hellscape he had found himself in he could see the muzzle flash of a gun firing and then the fire was back, licking across his neck. Lifting a hand to his throat he stumbled back when his fingers came away red and slick with his blood. He hit the ground hard, his entire body convulsing as he realized shock was setting in. 

“S-Spence?”

The sound of her trembling voice froze his heart and stuttered his breathing. Bloody hands still shaking, Spencer pushed himself off of the hard, frozen ground and came face to face with a bruised and battered Jemma. It was like finding her broken body in that dusty bank all over again, but this time, no matter how quickly he crawled towards her and how loudly he tried to scream her name, she remained just out of reach. She slumped further to the ground, never breaking eye contact, and he watched as the light left her eyes. 

“No, Jem -,” he managed to hiss, one hand still reached out towards her body as the shadows swirled around her and pulled her into the darkness.

“I can help,” a malicious voice whispered into his ear. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a hand drop into his field of vision, offering to help him to his feet.

He almost reached for it - surely standing would be better than crawling helpless in the shadows - but as he lifted his eyes towards the stranger’s face he recoiled. Tobias Hankel’s eyes crinkled as his lips curled into an evil smile. Spencer reared back, trying to scurry away from Hankel’s outstretched hand, but the other man was supernaturally fast and his fingers wrapped around Spencer’s wrist in a vice-like grip.

“Let me help you,” Hankel continued, and in his other hand Spencer saw the glint of a needle.

Spencer tried to call out again, but the fire in his throat was back and the sound died before it could escape. Helpless, he watched as the needle sunk into his skin and he fell back into the darkness, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. In the distance he swore he could hear the sound of Blake screaming his name alongside a faint beeping that grew subtly louder as Hankel disappeared into the black void of his mind and fog clouded his vision…

He came to his senses one by one. First, was the distinct sound of plastic scraping on plastic and that quiet beep he had heard in the darkness. Next, he could smell the antiseptic smell of the hospital room around him and, for a moment, he was confused. He had been in many hospitals - an unfortunate perk of being a federal agent - but the last time he’d been in a hospital was when he’d almost lost Jemma. _Where was Jemma?_ He could feel a scratchy fabric beneath his fingertips and then realized that fabric wasn’t just under his fingers, but thrown over his body and he could feel a slight pinch where a needle had punctured his skin. _Had Hankel really been here?_ Finally, he opened his eyes and the lonely, dark void he had been trapped in brightened into a sunlit hospital room.

His eyes darted around the room still feeling slightly panicky - though the heart monitor had only picked up a little bit; not enough to alert the doctors outside his door - and they landed on Penelope Garcia, huddled in the corner typing away at her laptop. The empty plastic next to her indicated he had been hearing her finishing a small container of jello and realized he was starving.

“Is that jello?” he croaked, instantly wishing he had stayed quiet as the stitches at his neck protested.

Garcia gave a startled squawk and practically jumped out of her chair towards his side.

“Oh my God Reid, you’re awake.” She was already in tears, he could hear it in her voice. “We were all so worried about you.”

Without thinking, Garcia bent down and wrapped Spencer in a tight hug that he returned for a brief moment before fire rippled across his throat again. He hissed in pain and she sprung back like she had been burned a second later, her hands raised.

“Sorry! Sorry! I’m so sorry!”

He raised a hand to the padded bandage wrapped around his neck and shook his head slightly. Looking anxious, she handed him a small plastic cup filled with ice water from his bedside table.

“It’s ok, Garcia. Just tell me what’s going on. What happened with the case?”

“Right, well, the team has been working hard since you’ve been out. Morgan got shot too, but he's ok. JJ and the rest of the team are working with the bar owner, but so far they haven't come up with much -,” she bit her lip and Spencer saw her eyes dart towards the slightly opened door to his hospital room, “Also, there’s something I should tell you. I may have panicked a little bit when Morgan called and said you had been shot.”

Spencer took a grateful sip of the water. It didn’t dispel the pain at his throat completely, but it eased it considerably. He eyed Garcia cautiously; she was wringing her hands and looking sheepish.

“Garcia, what do you mean you panicked a little bit?”

“Well, you see -,” she started, but the door swung open and another person backed into the room.

“It took me a little bit, Pen, but I found a coffee machine. I am not going to sugarcoat it for you, it is going to be the worst cup of coffee you’ve ever had.”

Spencer’s heart was pounding - this time it registered as a noticeable uptick on the heart monitor. _It couldn’t be. He had to still be dreaming_. She must have heard the sound of the monitor or maybe his face was the first thing her eyes went to every time she re-entered the room, but suddenly her eyes met his and she jerked to a halt in the doorway, a coffee cup in both hands.

Garcia cleared her throat. “So I called Jemma and she and I hitched a ride down here.”

He was gaping at her, he knew he was, but nothing in his brain was working anymore. She looked exhausted; her short hair thrown into a small, messy bun that looked like it had slid down the side of her head in the span of how ever many hours he had kept her waiting, her t-shirt was rumpled, and her make up was smudged, but Spencer didn’t think he had ever been more happy to see anyone in his entire life.

“Spence -,” he heard her whisper and, despite the pull of his stitches, he felt his lips slowly stretch into a grin.

A loud chime broke through the moment and both Spencer and Jemma turned to an embarrassed Penelope as she picked up her cell from the windowsill and answered it.

“Speak and be heard, JJ,” she said as she plucked one of the coffee cups from Jemma’s hands and squeezed past her into the hallway.

Finally, they were alone, but Jemma seemed rooted to the spot, her eyes searching his face, touching briefly on the gauze wrapped around his neck. He bunched the sheet into his fists wishing he could go to her. She seemed to come to her senses when her eyes met his again and she was at his side within three quick steps, her cup of coffee forgotten on the table Penelope had commandeered as her workspace. When her palms curved around his cheeks his eyes slid closed, reveling in the sensation of her soft skin on his. What a loss it would have been if he had never been able to feel her skin on his again. He felt her lips press hard on his forehead and a small splash of a tear rolled down the bridge of his nose until she swiped it away.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he murmured as she pulled back to sink into a chair nearby. 

She laced her fingers through his and smiled. “You know from experience that Penelope is a miracle worker. By now you should know the extent of her powers.”

He chuckled even though it hurt and squeezed her hand tightly. She pulled it to her lips and pressed a light kiss to his knuckles.

“You had me worried there, Doc,” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m just glad you’re ok now.” 

"You know, waking up in hospital rooms is slowly starting to become one of our ‘things,” he said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Luckily, she laughed, though she did wipe at her eyes as they brimmed with tears again. “Let’s not make it a habit.”

She stood to swipe her fingers across his cheek again and bent to brush her lips against his. The feel of it brought tears to his eyes and he raised his free hand to run it over her messy hair and curl his fingers around the nape of her neck. When she pulled away he could see the aftermath of the last 24 hours in her eyes - panic, fear, exhaustion, and, now, relief. She raised her hand from his cheek to push his curls off of his forehead and gave another soft breath of laughter.

“When we get out of here, you need a haircut,” she said, chuckling.

He smiled back at her. “You don’t like the long haired look?”

She tugged gently at one curl and smiled, “I suppose it’s somewhat growing on me.”

“Actually, I think it’s growing on me,” he joked, and she rolled her eyes at the absurdity of it. The sight of her warm smile pushed away the remaining tendrils of dread from his darkened dreams and he sighed contentedly, “Now I understand there’s jello somewhere around here?”

* * *

The entire mood in the tiny hospital room shifted once Spencer’s eyes had opened. Penelope had settled back down behind her computer to help JJ narrow down the location of the bar owner’s son, but she was back to her old self cracking jokes and keeping us up to date with all the case details; her voice so quick it was sometimes hard to keep up. I could tell Spencer was still in some amount of pain, but he handled it with an almost effortless grace; his grimaces barely noticeable. In my relief at being able to speak with him again I had practically raided the hospital kitchen for all available jello packets and the empty plastic containers were scattered around his bed as we all buzzed with a slight sugar high. He had only released my hand when absolutely necessary, but whenever we had to separate I could tell he kept track of where I was; his shoulders stiff until I returned to his side.

“When we get back to Quantico I am taking a full week off for rest and relaxation,” Penelope was saying as she typed furiously at her keyboard though I knew she would do no such thing, “You-,” she pulled herself from her screen long enough to point an accusatory finger at Spencer, “-are going to give me grey hair and I’m too young to be going grey!”

Spencer laughed, the sound a little raspier than usual, “Actually, did you know that the average age women start going gray is in their thirties though some women go gray as early as twenty years old. After you hit thirty your chances of developing gray hair go up 10 to 20% every decade.”

He trailed off as he caught Penelope’s glare. I snorted and they both turned towards me.

“At least we know he’s feeling better,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders.

Penelope didn’t look entirely convinced, though the strain in her back seemed to ease slightly. She looked like she had more to say - perhaps another snide comment - but the door creaked open and a nurse peeked her head in.

“Hey there,” she called timidly, gaze darting from the protection detail outside of Spencer’s door to the man himself in the bed, “I’m here to check on Dr. Reid’s stitches and change out his bandages.” She held up a hand full of tightly wound gauze. 

Nodding, I shifted away from the bed, allowing her closer to Spencer. As always, his eyes followed me to the back of the room next to Penelope as the nurse sidestepped around me. Gently, she tipped his head slightly to access the tape that was holding the bandage together and quickly ran a small scalpel across it to cut it open. Then it was a dizzying motion of unwrapping the seemingly endless strips of gauze from around his neck before she lifted that and the cushion-like wad of bandage off his neck and then his stitches were exposed to the room. Spencer hissed a little at the feeling of the open air on his wound and the nurse hummed quietly as she gently pressed her gloved fingers against the healing skin.

“You’re a little inflamed,” she was murmuring, bent low over his neck, “but that’s to be expected. I’m just going to clean up your stitches a little bit and then we’ll get your bandages back on.”

Spencer said nothing, still grimacing slightly in pain, his hands clutching at the sheets. I gave him a tight smile, helpless at the back of the room. Penelope had thrown herself back into her computer, unable to look at the gash sewn together at Spencer’s throat. I could hear her muttering quietly to herself, but I wasn’t even sure she knew what she was saying.

“Oh God, I’m not going to look at it. He’s ok, the doctor is ok. It’s just a battle scar and chicks dig battle scars. He’s ok. He’s ok. We’re going to solve this case and go home soon and he is going to be ok.”

I pressed a hand to hers, stilling her movement on the keyboard, and she raised her face to meet my gaze. I squeezed her fingers, giving her the same tight smile I had given to Spencer to try and calm her anxious mutterings. Spencer gave another hiss and we both turned towards the hospital bed, but Penelope’s gaze skittered away a moment later. The nurse had pressed the alcohol to his stitches and it had obviously stung. When Penelope’s phone chimed a moment later she slid out of her chair and out the door with a breathy _‘oh thank God.’_ The nurse had murmured a soft apology before gently placing a bandage over the stitches and began rewrapping his throat. 

“Ok, you’re good to go, Doctor,” she said, stepping back to admire her handiwork, “If you need anything let me know, ok? You know where the call button is.”

Spencer didn’t say anything, his hand massaging the bandages around his throat. He nodded and she smiled before stepping out the door. I was back at his side in an instant.

“You ok?” 

He cleared his throat and winced. “It just burns.” His eyes lifted to mine. “But I’ll be fine.”

I ran my fingers through his messy hair and he closed his eyes, sighing happily at the sensation. “Why don’t you get some rest. Penelope and I can entertain ourselves for a little bit.”

He was already slipping away, his breathing evening out. It didn’t stop him from making a small quip, “Who knows what kind of trouble the two of you can get into while I’m out.”

“You never know,” I chuckled.

I perched on the edge of his bed, gently combing my fingertips across his scalp, humming softly as the rest of his body relaxed, welcoming sleep. His eyelashes were long, dusting across his high cheekbones and I smiled at the sight of his hands, normally so expressive, relaxed and quiet against the bedsheets. I took a deep breath, enjoying the still moment while I had it. It was then that Penelope hurried back into the room, quickly shutting the door. She looked slightly panicked and I began to ask what was going on, but she silenced me with one finger and pressed her phone back to her ear.

“Ok, I did that. Now what?” She paused while she listened to whoever was on the other line, “Yes, yes I can do that -,” another pause and then she searched the room, her eyes falling to the wheelchair in the corner, “-uh, yes.”

Her eyes were wild with fear and anxiety and I reached for Spencer’s hand. He was thankfully still asleep, his eyelids fluttering. Penelope offered no further explanation, listening hard at whoever was on the phone.

“That is not going to be easy,” she replied, her eyes darting towards Spence. Then suddenly her breathing kicked into high gear and she stared at the white patient’s bag we had been ignoring since he had woken up, “Oh my God, what?”

“Pen, what’s -,” I started, but she held her hand up to me again.

She took a few more panicked breaths and hung up. When she looked back up at me she looked wild.

“Dirty cops,” she managed to say, “And the biggest, baddest is just outside this door. We need to get Spencer in this wheelchair and out of this hospital like now.”

“What? Penelope, he’s recovering from a gunshot wound. He can’t be moved,” I spared a quick glance back at Spencer. He was just starting to stir, my raised voice pulling him from sleep.

Penelope was still gasping for air, her hand pressed to her stomach as though she couldn’t breathe. “It’s either that or we get his gun from his patient bag.”

Just like that the panicked feeling was back, coiling tight at the pit of my stomach. I took a few quick steps to peer out the window of the hospital room. The officer stood out to me immediately. He was taller than the rest of the bustling nurses and doctors or perhaps he just seemed that way as he looked so confident he seemed to swell to fit the hallway. He was in his uniform and I could just see where his gun hung on his belt before he turned his head towards my direction. With a gasp, I ducked back down before he could see me. Penelope and I exchanged stricken looks, momentarily frozen with fear.

“Ok, Spence, we have to get you up,” I said at last, turning to gently shake Spencer awake. He grumbled slightly, but began to move. Penelope hustled forward to help me load him into the wheelchair, connecting his IV to the attached pole. 

“What’s going on?” he murmured, his hand reaching up to press on his wrapped throat before he grimaced in pain. 

“Nothing, don’t worry about it. You’re totally fine,” Penelope was babbling as she tucked him tightly into the chair, checking his bandages to ensure he hadn’t ripped his stitches. She turned the chair, ready to open the door and head out into the hallway, but I stalled her.

“Wait, if he sees you Spence is done for,” I said, my heart pounding, “He knows you’re FBI, but he doesn’t know me. Let me distract him and you can slip away. I’ll meet you both in the parking lot, ok?”

Penelope looked unsure. “Jem, you don’t need to do this. Reid wouldn’t want you in harms way like this. We can sneak past him. It will be fine.”

I shook my head, “I can’t take the risk of him seeing you or Spencer. Let me do this.”

We stared at each other for a loaded moment. Spencer blinked sleepily in the chair, his eyes unfocused. Finally Penelope gave a tight nod and she stepped away from the door. I dropped quickly to a crouch so I could press a light kiss against Spencer’s cheek and slipped out the door into the hallway.

The officer - Officer McGregor as I could see on his uniform - was pacing irritably in the hallway. He was on the phone, murmuring intently into it, before he snarled something and shoved it back in his pocket. I darted forward, cutting him off before he could turn back towards Spencer’s room.

“Officer,” I called, thankful my voice wasn’t shaking, “Officer McGregor, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he grunted, looking confused. He hooked his thumbs in his belt and I tried not to look at the gun hanging just a few inches away.

“I just wanted to say thank you for saving my husband’s life,” I stumbled forward, the lie easily slipping past my lips, “You were there at the bar shooting, right?”

I could still see the confusion in his eyes, but he focused on unwrinkling his brow and stretched his frame to its full height so he could look impressive. I swallowed hard and forced myself to maintain eye contact. Behind him I could see Penelope wheel Spencer quickly and quietly out of the hospital room. My heart squeezed at how limply he held his head.

“I was not,” Officer McGregor replied, sounding weary, “but there were a lot of good men there. Who did you say your husband was?”

“Oh,” I started. My eyes met Penelope’s and McGregor began to turn. In a panic I blurted out, “Spencer. Spencer Reid.”

Spencer’s head lifted at the sound of his name and I briefly noted the muted shock flashing across his face as his sluggish brain caught up with what he was seeing. Penelope began to push before he could find his words. I had Officer McGregor’s full attention now. His eyebrows lifted and I saw him scan me up and down as though surprised someone like me would be with someone like Spencer. It made me sick and it took concentrated effort to keep myself from grimacing at him.

“Dr. Reid is married?” McGregor murmured, “They flew you down here? During an active case?”

My mind scrambled to find an explanation, something I could say to him that would keep his attention on me, but my anxiety riddled brain was drawing a blank.

“Well - I -,” I stuttered and I saw his right hand creep toward the handle of his gun.

It was then that the alarms began to wail and the lights began to flash. Within seconds the hallway was swarming with more nurses and doctors attempting to hurry their patients to safety. McGregor turned quickly away from me, momentarily surprised by the fire alarms. He took two steps back towards Spencer’s now empty room and swore. I took the opening and ducked under his arm, jogging quickly down the hallway. I could hear him calling after me, but I didn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how are we all feeling about the news of a potential Criminal Minds reboot? Personally I don't know how you can call it a reboot if it's only been off the air for a little over a year, but that's just me. Also, I may talk a big game, but I know I'll watch the shit out of the reboot as long as it just picks back up with the original crew and maybe also Hotch. My guess is Shemar wouldn't return as a full time cast member since he's now in SWAT, but I could see him doing the occasional guest appearance as Garcia's guiding light. What would you guys like to see in a reboot (a resuming? Still can't see this as a reboot) of Criminal Minds?
> 
> ALSO, I've been working hard on the last few chapters of Everything and BOY are they a doozy. I am SO EXCITED to share the with you though ending this story will be very bittersweet. GOOD THING THERE'S GOING TO BE A SEQUEL!
> 
> ...I've been home by myself for way too long and that's the only reason why I have so much manic energy right now.


	25. Twenty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma continues with the trend of potentially saving Spencer's life...

Spencer was livid once we had him back in his hospital bed. Every time he was gently pushed back to lay down he was swinging his legs off, throwing the blankets aside. It wasn’t until the blood began to soak through the bandage around his neck that we realized he had pulled his stitches and he allowed himself to be lowered back into the pillows.

“You can’t do that,” he was murmuring to me, grimacing in pain as two nurses tag-teamed rebandaging him, “You cannot do that again. Don’t put yourself in danger just for me.”

The room was too crowded with people - the two nurses, me, and Penelope - so I could just shrug helplessly at him which only seemed to irritate him further. His eyes never left mine from across the room even as several members of the team arrived to regroup in the hallway outside. When Hotch motioned for Penelope to join them she gave my arm an apologetic squeeze and pressed past me into the hallway. While one of the nurses rewrapped his throat the other pressed a syringe into the IV hooked into his skin and finally the rigidity in his shoulders eased. When they passed me on their way out, one pressed her hand to my shoulder.

“He should be good for the evening, but if it looks like he might pull his stitches again just press that button.” She indicated a remote strapped to the guard rails next to Spencer’s head.

Finally it was just the two of us. I curled my hands into fists, squeezing and releasing, as we stared at each other.

“Don’t do that again,” he said again, softly this time, “I am not worth that.”

“That’s bullshit,” I replied fiercely and strode forward to gather his hands in mine, “You are absolutely worth it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

His glare was blazing, but I didn’t flinch. For a moment the room was mostly silent, just the quiet beeping sound that had long ago blended into the background of my mind. Then he took a deep breath and the furrow between his brows eased.

“I’m not going to change your mind, am I?” he murmured.

I blew a quiet laugh out my nose and shook my head. “Not in a million years.”

The tension easing between us, I allowed myself to sink into the mattress next to him, my hands still tightly wrapped around his. From between the blinds of the hospital window I could see Alex, Morgan, Hotch, and Penelope huddled together deep in conversation. Penelope stood out in her usual vibrant colors, but the rest of them looked muted and somber from their stoic faces to their dark clothes. 

“They’re worried,” he murmured. He must have been examining them just as intently as I was, but he had more experience reading body language than I did.

“Have you dealt with corrupt cops before?” 

His hands squeezed compulsively and I tore my gaze away from the cluster of agents in the hall to look back at him. 

“Occasionally, but usually we’re not caught off guard like this.” He raised his free hand to the fresh bandages around his neck. “And usually I’m not stuck in a hospital bed.”

His brow furrowed again and his golden eyes slid back to the window. His expression was stormy again and I thought maybe he was going to launch into another argument with me, but then he lifted his hands to his face and scrubbed angrily at his eyes.

“I feel so helpless,” he gritted out.

“Hey,” I replied, reaching out for him and wrapping my hands around both his wrists, “don’t talk like that. You’re not helpless, just momentarily knocked down.”

He allowed me to pull his fingers away from his face. His eyes still had that hollow, glassy look in them that broke my heart, but his lips were slightly curved at my choice of words.

“Momentarily knocked down?” He repeated.

“Yeah, so it’s a good thing you’ve got a badass like me around to take care of you until you get back up.”

He didn’t respond, but I could see his eyes searching my face. Their gaze touched the frizzy hair coming out of its hair tie, the bags under my eyes, and the flush of my cheeks, warming at the intensity of his gaze. His smile slid more securely across his lips and he slipped his wrists out of my grip to tangle his fingers with mine.

“I love you,” he whispered to me, his voice cracking ever so slightly at the weight of the emotion in his voice.

I brought his fingertips to my lips. “‘People always say that happiness is a faraway thing...something complicated and hard to get-,” Spencer’s eyes crinkled as his grin widened, catching the quote, “‘Yet, what little things can make it up.’”

“Betty Smith,” he said, simply, “ _A Tree Grows in Brooklyn_.”

I nodded and pressed a kiss to his palm, “I love you too, Doc.”

He looked like he wanted to say something more, but Derek tipped partly through the doorframe, knocking softly on the wall. When he saw the quiet moment he had interrupted he had the decency to look a little ashamed, but that didn’t stop him from stepping completely into the room. Out in the hallway, the rest of the team was retreating, heading towards the exit though I could see their eyes peering through the blinds to catch a glimpse of Spencer and I. Only Hotch was left, briefing Penelope who looked utterly terrified.

“Sorry to interrupt, lovebirds,” Derek said, winking at me, “Just wanted to check in on Pretty Boy before we head back out, but I see that he is in good hands.”

I snuck a glance back at Spencer, catching the end of his eye roll. When I looked back to Derek I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud. I could tell by the twinkle in his eye that Derek was enjoying himself. He moved closer to Spencer’s bed, wrapping one arm briefly around my shoulder and giving me a squeeze. Then he raised one fist towards Spence’s direction and the two men met together in a light fist bump.

“Jemma,” Hotch’s voice pulled me away from the brotherly moment. He was hovering in the doorway and, when he caught my eye, he jerked his head towards the hallway, “Can I speak with you?”

Momentarily stunned the unit chief would want to speak with me of all people, I turned back to the two men behind me. They looked just as surprised and Spencer’s lips pursed in a tight line, any iota of relaxation I had coaxed out of him immediately dissolving. Perhaps Hotch could read the tension in the room, because he raised one placating hand and spoke over me to Spencer.

“It will only be a moment and I’m not planning on putting her in the field, so you don’t need to worry.” His gaze slid back to mine, “It’s just a debriefing.”

I nodded once, squeezed Spencer’s hand one more time, and followed Hotch out the door. I could feel Spencer’s anxious gaze on my back the entire way out. There were several men in bulletproof vests scattered around the hallway. Several of them nodded quiet greetings towards Hotch who returned them with a slight incline of his head. We joined Penelope in the hallway. She was pacing in small lines, twisting her fingers and muttering to herself. When I put a hand on her arm to still her she took a deep breath and stopped moving.

“How is he?” Hotch asked. I could tell he was examining Spencer through the window and when I turned to follow his gaze I could see Spencer watching right back.

“Frustrated,” I responded, still confused, “I didn’t help matters by distracting that officer.”

“You did a good job.” His response was gruff, but there was a rough hint of respect buried in his tone. When I turned my surprised eyes back to him his mouth tightened into what I suddenly realized was a small smile.

“T-thank you,” I sputtered out, turning to Penelope to make sure this interaction was actually happening.

He nodded and then he was back to business as usual. “You did a good job, but with the latest attempt, I’m assigning a heavier detail on Reid’s room. You should be protected in case they make another attempt.”

Beside me Penelope was nodding fervently. Hotch turned his intense eyes from mine to hers and back again. I could still feel Spencer watching us through the window. My stomach coiled and writhed at the thought of trying to hold off another armed policeman. I could already feel my spine start to ache with the tension holding me upright.

“Another attempt?” I heard myself ask.

I could practically see the cogs turning in Hotch’s head, deciding quickly how much he wanted to tell me.

“We’re close to making an arrest,” he replied at last, “but until then Reid is in just as much danger as before. I’m confident we can protect him here, but he is still a liability to them. He will be until this is over.”

I turned my wide eyes to Penelope. She was shifting her weight back and forth on the balls of her feet.

“In case they get through Reid’s added protective detail I’ve told Penelope to keep his gun nearby,” Hotch continued. His eyes sharpened a moment at the sound of my involuntary intake of breath, but he made no comment. “If at any point she needs to use it to protect herself, you, or Dr. Reid you need to get yourself to safety. _Just yourself_.”

“But -,” I started, but Hotch held up a hand.

“Just yourself,” he repeated. 

We glared at each other for a long, tense moment, but he was better at holding onto intensity than I was and soon I was breaking. My gaze dropped to my feet, blinking hard at the tears trying to wet my dry eyes.

“Fine,” I murmured and he nodded satisfied.

We followed him back into the hospital room. Derek had stolen my abandoned chair, pulling it closer to Spencer and was talking with a quiet intensity. He was bent close, his elbows on his knees.

“Don’t worry, kid,” I heard him say, “It’ll be the easiest thing in the world I guarantee.”

I could see the tension leave Spencer’s body when he caught sight of me slipping back into the room, Penelope tight at my heels. Derek looked utterly gleeful and the goofy grin on his face caught me off guard especially with Hotch’s warning still ringing in my ears. He clapped a hand on my shoulder as he passed, squeezing tightly and winking at me before he followed Hotch out the door. I turned quizzically towards Spencer, but he gave me nothing, shrugging with almost exaggerated confusion. I considered hounding him for an answer, but the crackle of a radio interrupted me as one of the unnamed guards on protective duty pulled the hospital room quietly shut.

* * *

“How’re you feeling?” Garcia asked him, fiddling with the sheet thrown across his legs. She had been tucking the sheets under his legs for the last few minutes, but Spencer could tell it was just an outlet for her nervous energy.

He cleared his throat and winced at the pull of his stitches. “Tired.”

She smiled at him and patted his cheek gently. “You’re not the only one, Smart One.”

He tipped his head just a few degrees to peer around Garcia’s shoulder. Jemma had made a valiant effort to stay awake at his bedside, but had started to wilt. She had fallen asleep twice - once mid-sentence - and had only jerked awake when the heavy weight of her head began to tip her body sideways. It had taken both Spencer and Garcia to talk her into closing her eyes for a few minutes in a more comfortable position and, even then, she hadn’t conceded until Garcia had arranged both available chairs into a makeshift bed out of one of Spencer’s extra pillows and the blanket from the foot of his bed. The moment her head had hit the pillow she was out and neither Spencer or Garcia had the heart or inclination to wake her. At the sight of her curled in a loose ball across the two chairs Spencer began to smile.

“Boy Genius, you two are unbelievably cute,” Penelope cooed, pinching his cheek. She giggled softly when he raised his arms to bat her hand away. She stole a glance back at Jemma and when she spoke next her voice was contemplative. “You two really are perfect for each other. So in love.”

“I like to think so,” he replied, but he couldn’t help the facts bubbling up his throat, “Did you know, statistically men fall in love faster than women do - 48% over 28% and there is no proven fact or figure that people are made for others.”

Penelope slapped lightly at his arm, “Stop it, Reid. It’s clear to every single person who has ever interacted with you that you two are B-A-N-A-N-A-S crazy for each other. She flew all the way here - white knuckling the whole time - because she was so worried about you. She’s been operating on fumes for the last several days and hasn’t showered or changed her clothes once because she refuses to leave this hospital without you. You don’t need facts or figures for that kind of love.”

Spencer wove the edge of the sheet between his fingers and snuck another glance back at Jemma. In her sleep she wrapped the blanket tighter around her body, pulling her arms underneath her, and snuggling deeper into the pillow that no doubt held a shadow of his scent on it. His eidetic mind flashed to the morning after their first time together when she had curled similarly against him and knew he was blushing by the quiet giggles he could hear from Garcia.

“I guess not,” he replied as she poked him gently in his side. 

Jemma’s eyelids were fluttering when the male nurse strode in. He was examining a chart in his hands, but froze momentarily as the movement of her stretch caught him off guard. The air in the room shifted, but Spencer couldn’t quite figure out why. 

“Oh, but how can you sleep cause you’re in a hospital where people are always poking you,” Garcia joked, smiling warmly at the nurse as he bent back over the chart, tucked it under his arm, and pulled a small glass bottle out of the pocket of his scrubs. Penelope cleared her throat, her smile falling, “He had his meds an hour ago.”

Spencer could see Jemma’s face sluggishly sharpen on the man beside his bed, still pulling herself out of sleep. He shifted slightly in bed, feeling uneasy, and, as though she were reading his mind, she shoved the chairs aside and stood, joining the nurse in three easy steps.

“Yeah, post op-antibiotics,” the nurse responded, puncturing the glass bottle with a syringe. Spencer could see his eyes dart to Jemma’s hovering presence, the vein in his neck pulsing notably.

“Yeah, he had those too,” Garcia murmured, fiddling with the sheets.

“Which ones?” Spencer asked, leaning up as much as he could to read the label on the bottle. What he read jolted his heart into his throat, “Carbenicillin? No, that’s not right. I - I have a severe reaction to beta lactams. I can’t have that.”

The nurse pulled the chart out and made a show of flipping through it, “Well, it’s not in your chart.”

The moment seemed to slow as the nurse turned to the IV and pressed the needle into the tubing. Spencer scrambled to rip the IV out of his hand, panic rising in his throat. He would die if that medicine entered his veins.

“What are you doing?” he heard himself ask, “What are you doing?”

Jemma reacted first, slamming her body into the nurses’ and he heard the distinct _clink_ noise of the glass bottle hitting the floor. With a growl, the nurse caught himself on the machinery by Spencer’s bed and whirled himself around, pushing hard at Jemma’s shoulders. She stumbled back, tripping over her feet and crashed to the floor. 

“Jem!” Spencer called, one hand reaching out for her. Beside him Penelope was frozen in fear, watching as the man bent to pick up the fallen medicine. His shirt rode up slightly and then Spencer saw it, “Garcia! He has a gun!”

She came to herself quickly, and spun to find his gun stashed away on the table that had once held copious amounts of jello. She aimed at the nurse at the exact same time the nurse pulled his from the back of his pants and leveled it at Spencer’s face. He caught one last look of Jemma, struggling to pull herself to her feet, before he squeezed his eyes shut and the echo of a gunshot rang out.

* * *

Derek was there within minutes. I couldn’t even try to figure out how to wrap my brain around how he had made it to the hospital so quickly, but suddenly he was in the room, gun drawn, bending to place two fingers to the injured man’s neck.

“He’s moving,” Penelope was murmuring, her tear filled eyes on the body on the tiled floor, “Ok. I didn’t know how loud. I can’t hear except for my heart.”

I realized then that I could hear a loud ringing cutting across Penelope’s words. The sound had been piercing, but I had been too dazed to realize it at first, my breath still knocked out of me as I tried to pick myself off the floor. Spencer was staring helplessly at me and our eyes met.

 _Are you ok?_ His worried golden eyes were saying, scanning me from top to bottom for any injuries. I nodded and he tore his gaze away to look at Penelope, still babbling to herself.

“It feels like it’s going to come out. Can that happen? Physically, can your heart burst out of your chest?” She turned to Spencer and he reached out one gentle hand, lowering her trembling ones, and pulling the gun from her grasp, “And what is this ringing? My ears don’t pop for like a week after I fly, and if this is like that, that’s gonna drive me bonkers. Am I yelling? Because it feels like I might be yelling.”

Derek tossed a glance over his shoulder at me as I finally got to my feet. He had secured the fake nurse with handcuffs as several real nurses hurried in to address his gunshot wound. We exchanged no words, but I could see him taking a mental note of any injuries I may have. Satisfied I wasn’t in any danger of bleeding out, he turned his concerned gaze at Penelope and then returned to monitoring the nurses lifting the wounded man onto a gurney. Quietly, I crept up beside Penelope, reaching for her hand as Spencer pulled the gun away. At the press of my fingers she turned back to me. One tear had slid down her face and she looked like she was moments away from coming undone.

“You saved my life,” Spencer murmured and her mouth dropped open in sudden surprise, whipping back to face him. He took a deep breath, no doubt calming the racing heart in his chest, “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I heard that. That makes it better. Thank you for saying that.”

I squeezed her hand, pulling her attention back to me. “Thank you for doing it.”

Her breathing began to race and she pulled Spencer into a tight hug murmuring to herself, “Ok. You’re ok. We’re all ok.”

Spencer’s eyes met mine over her shoulder and I found his free hand hidden in the sheets, twisting our fingertips together. I blew out a gust of air, blinking back the sudden tears. _I’d do it again in a heartbeat._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time, no see, friends! Thank you all for your comments on the last chapter! You guys really make my day, like really. I can't believe that this little story has had over 5,000 hits when I honestly only expected to get, like, one. Thank you for joining me on this wild ride!
> 
> On the CM reboot, I've heard lots of rumors and read lots of questionable articles and one of my favorite rumors is that Hank Green of YouTube (and now TikTok) fame is joining the cast so Spencer might not because there's only room for one nerd on the team. It's a weird and wild world we live in.
> 
> Happy last Friday of February! We're getting into the best month of the year (though admittedly I am a little biased as I am turning 27 in March).


	26. Twenty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team wraps up the Texas case and Jemma and Spencer settle into semi-domestic bliss...

“I still can’t believe they’ve cleared you to fly,” I said, shaking my head as I helped Spencer pack his things into his overnight bag. 

In general, as long as they are properly cared for, traumatic injuries take as little as ten days to heal enough for the patient to be discharged from the hospital.” His brow was furrowed as he pulled his gun out from the white patient bag. He checked the safety, and slid it into the holster at his hip. “Since my injury wasn’t as traumatic as some, the doctors were able to clear me sooner than expected.”

“‘ _Wasn’t as traumatic_ ,’” I mocked, “I beg to differ.”

It hadn’t taken long for the rest of the team to track down the ringleader in the precinct. Moments after Derek had ensured that the man Penelope had shot was getting treatment while in handcuffs, and double checked that the three of us in Spencer’s room were still breathing, he had joined the rest of the agents at an abandoned lot where they finally put down the corruption. When Hotch had returned to the hospital to tell us the good news, Penelope's whole body seemed to deflate and she had fallen back into her chair, hand over her heart. Hotch had leveled another intimidating stare at me and his words about protecting myself seemed to echo in the space between us, but he had said nothing. Instead his gaze had flicked between me, Spencer, and our hands joined together on top of the sheets. Before he had turned back out of the room I could swear I saw the tiny flicker of a nostalgic smile as though we had reminded him of something he had lost.

After that time seemed to race ahead. The team helped the remaining members of the precinct book the few who had survived the shootout and got started on the paperwork Spencer ensured me would be seemingly endless. Thankfully, just a day after the case had wrapped up, the doctor had allowed Spencer to be discharged from the hospital, though he warned against any intense physical labor. I was pretty sure his warning was entirely innocent, but judging by the blush rising up Spencer’s neck I was still glad that Derek hadn’t been there.

Finally I was able to follow through on my promise and had walked with Spencer out into the brilliant Texan sunlight. We had caught a ride with JJ back to our hotel where I had immediately locked myself in the bathroom for a much needed shower. When I had come out feeling fresh and squeaky clean, I had found Spencer already dozing under the sheets. He had turned his tired eyes towards me - taking in my wet hair and the oversized shirt he usually slept in - and had raised one arm towards me, beckoning me to him. The sheets were already warmed by his body heat when I climbed in next to him, wrapping my arms around his exposed middle and nuzzling my nose in the small sliver of exposed skin under his bandage where his neck curved into his shoulder. I fell asleep to the quiet sounds of his breathing and when I woke up the next morning I felt more rested than I had in days.

It was days later and, after one last visit to the hospital for a final check up, Spencer had been cleared to fly just as the team had finished up the necessary procedure to close the case. Packing was easy, but Spencer had a bad habit of throwing himself into things without consideration to the injury he was still recovering from. We had the one bag in between us - consisting of only his clothes and toiletries - but somehow in the span of the few days we had been there, his possessions had been scattered throughout the room and it took us some time to pull everything together. 

He was smirking at me as he refolded one of his cardigans and stuffed the white patient’s bag at the bottom of his duffle. I watched his eyes slowly scan me from top to bottom as he took in my outfit. It was lucky he had thought to bring an old CalTech sweatshirt and I had gladly commandeered it for our flight home, my tee shirt a rumpled, dirty mess. 

“You - uh - you look good,” he stuttered, his fingers slipping on the zipper to his bag and his eyes skittering away from mine, “You look good in that sweatshirt.”

I took a few steps toward him, curving my arms around his waist and ducking my head under his arm. He wrapped it around my shoulders and suddenly we were nose to nose.

“Thank you,” I replied, smugly, “I got it from this really cute guy.”

He grinned at me, the smile radiant as always. He bent, careful not to tweak his neck too badly, and our lips touched. It wasn’t our first kiss since he had been released, but it was the first kiss where both of us were entirely at ease. He hummed softly and brought his other hand up to cradle my jaw. I smiled at the feeling of his fingertips curling around my hair. 

“Wheels up in twenty, Lovebirds!” Derek’s voice echoed loudly through the hotel door. Moments later I heard Penelope’s sharp admonishment as they moved down the hallway.

I pulled back apologetically and detangled myself from Spencer’s arms. He sighed and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. He hauled the bag onto his shoulder - despite my objections that I was perfectly able to carry it - and laced his fingers with mine before leading me towards the door. We caught Derek’s smirk from the elevator before it slid completely shut.

* * *

“So my tax dollars pay for you all to just zip around the country in this luxury vehicle?” I joked.

“Exactly,” Rossi replied, raising his glass of whisky towards me and taking a sip, “Ah, America.”

“Did you know that approximately 20 percent of the federal budget is spent on defense and security?” Spencer piped up on the couch next to me though he had been attempting to sleep since the plane had taken off, “Most of that percentage is allocated to the Department of Defense, which covers the cost of military operations, troop training, equipment, and weapons research, but it also includes funding for the Department of Homeland Security and, like this plane, the Transportation Security Administration.”

Rossi stared at Spence for a moment, his face caught in the usual amused exasperation. Then he shook his head and took another drink.

“Back to business as usual, I see,” he muttered. Next to him, Alex let out a chuckle.

I turned back to Spence, my brow furrowed. “I thought you were going to try to get some rest.”

He grimaced and rubbed one hand over the bandage taped to his neck. We had unwrapped and taped a square of gauze over his stitches in the hotel bathroom before check out. It had made our travel much easier, but I could still see him wince occasionally as the knots caught on the material.

“It’s difficult to find a comfortable position,” he admitted finally.

I hummed in consideration and looked around the jet for something he could use as a pillow. Inspiration struck and I dipped down the side of the couch to locate Spencer’s go bag. Rummaging around for a moment, I pulled out his bright purple cardigan and bunched it into a squishy ball on my lap. 

“Try this.”

Spencer looked confused for a moment and then scooted closer to me before laying back down, his head in my lap. He reached for my right hand, lacing his fingers with mine, and placed it on his chest where I could feel his heartbeat against my palm. I ran my fingertips through the curls on his forehead, scratching my nails against his scalp, and smiled as his eyes began to droop. Across from me Rossi and Alex watched amused.

“We should have found you sooner,” Rossi quipped, “You’re the only one who can get him to stop monologuing.”

"I heard that,” Spencer muttered, his eyes still closed.

Rossi chuckled and stood to find himself a refill. In his absence, Morgan took the opportunity and dropped into the vacated seat. Surprisingly, he remained silent, even though his lips quirked at the sight of Spencer visibly relaxing and his breathing even out. In fact it was Alex who spoke first and her voice was quiet and full of emotion.

“He reminds me of Ethan.” Her eyes touched briefly on the white bandage on his neck and then darted away. She swirled her drink and raised the glass to her lips.

It was obvious she was tamping down on her emotions and suddenly I felt like I was pressing my nose against a window, spying on an intimate moment. I bent my head and pushed more of Spencer’s curls off of his forehead. He was already dreaming, his eyes moving quickly under his eyelids. Derek’s voice was soft when he responded.

“Who’s Ethan?”

Alex’s head jerked up and she turned her wide eyes towards Derek as though she wasn’t aware she had been speaking. Then her lips curved in a sad smile.

“My son.” She took another sip. “He got sick when he was nine, but Spencer reminds me so much of him even in the short time I’ve known him.” Her eyes lifted up to mine. “I’m glad he has someone like you with him. If he were still here I would hope Ethan would have someone similar to walk with him through life.”

Her gaze followed my fingers as I continued to comb through Spencer’s curly, brown hair. He shifted slightly in his sleep, turning his head slightly toward my stomach and nestling deeper in my lap. I heard Derek huff out a laugh and I shot him a half-joking glare. His eyes were mischievous as he surveyed me over his own glass.

“All I can say is the kid’s got it bad for you, Baby Genius.” He tipped his glass back, draining it, and placed it on the table in front of him. Looking more serious, he twisted in his seat and leaned his elbows heavily on his knees. “I don’t have any doubts, but I want to hear it from your mouth. You care for him, right?”

The sincerity in his voice was so intense I blinked at him for a few moments in silent shock. My hand stilled in Spencer’s hair and he shifted slightly at the loss. Derek hadn’t looked away. Instead he had cocked his eyebrows, still expecting an answer. Alex looked a little bewildered, but she didn’t say anything more.

“Of course,” I finally spluttered out, “I love him.”

Spencer’s hand tightened briefly on mine and his lips pursed slightly as he continued to dream. Derek looked satisfied and leaned back in his seat.

“Thought so,” he murmured, reaching for his glass and tipping any remaining droplets of liquor into his mouth, “Well, you have my blessing.”

* * *

Despite spending a majority of the last few days sleeping or resting, Spencer was still dead on his feet by the time we arrived back at his apartment. He made a valiant effort to continue on as usual; attempting to unpack his go bag and throw his dirty clothes into the washing machine, but I caught his wince as he bent to put his toiletries bag back underneath his bathroom sink.

“Here, let me take care of that,” I chuckled softly, wrapping my arm around his middle and letting him lean into me.

“You know I’ve done this before without you,” he protested weakly, but he allowed himself to be guided back out the bathroom and settled on the edge of his bed. 

I caught the edge of his exasperated look as I pulled open one of his drawers to find him some sleep pants that would be much more comfortable than the slacks he had insisted on wearing on his flight back.

“You don’t have to do all this,” he tried again, but I lightly tossed the pants in his direction. The fabric hit him fully in the face and I stuck my tongue out at him when he emerged.

“I know you’re perfectly capable and I know I don’t have to,” I explained and stepped back in front of him, nestling in between his knees so I could cradle his face in my hands. “I do it because I want to. Let me fuss over you for a second. Then you can go back to being Dr. Mind Reader Superhero Extraordinaire.”

Careful not to disturb the bandage, he craned his face up to meet mine - a rare occurrence as he usually towered above me - and I tipped forward to press my forehead against his. I felt his fingers creep around my thighs, holding me tight to him, and for a moment we didn’t move. Finally, I placed a chaste kiss to his lips and pulled myself away from his embrace. He looked a little distraught at the loss.

“You get some more rest,” I replied, pointing towards the fluffy pillows behind him, “I’m going to see what we have to make for dinner.”

He sighed, still sounding a bit belligerent at being ordered around, but nodded and stood to change into the pants he had balled up next to him. Satisfied, I ducked out of the room and headed towards the kitchen. The apartment was quieter than usual as Matt had picked up Bruno after I had left for the Bureau and I had yet to pick him up. I could hear Spencer stumbling around the bedroom as I bent to investigate the fridge.

Unsurprisingly, the fridge and most of the pantry was empty. Spencer had stocked up on the essentials - coffee, sugar, and creamer - but anything resembling a balanced meal was either expired or non-existent. Sighing, I straightened just as I heard him curse.

“You ok?” I called.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, his voice a little muffled, “Just clumsy.”

I headed back down the hallway and poked my head around the doorframe. His slacks were tossed over the chair in the corner and he was buried underneath the sheets and comforter, his face pressed against the pillow. He looked so ridiculously comfy I had to remind myself we needed food in order to keep myself from joining him. He lifted his head just barely when he caught a glimpse of me waiting in the doorway.

“There is no food in this house and I don’t think we can live on sugary coffee so I’m going to get us something, pick up Bruno, and get myself a change of clothes. If you need anything call me, ok?”

He looked slightly offended, though I couldn’t tell if it was offense at my comment on his lack of food or the fact that I assumed he couldn’t live off coffee, but nodded. I blew him a kiss and grinned when I saw the corner of his lips creep up in that slow, sweet smile I loved so much.

The sky was grey and heavy with rain when I made it outside. I made a mental note to pack a jacket when I got to my house and pressed my phone to my ear, already dialing Matt.

“Jem!” he answered almost immediately, “You’re ok! How is everything? How is Spencer?”

He had been frantically texting me for days while we were in Texas and I had finally gotten back to him once Spencer had been discharged, but I could tell he had been in a constant state of worry since I had left. 

“Hey Matt,” I said, smiling. I hadn’t realized how much I missed his voice until that moment. “We’re all good. Spencer is doing fine. He’s still recovering, but he’s ok. I’m sorry I ran out on you like that.”

He scoffed. “Don’t even apologize. You needed to be there. I would never fault you for that.”

“Matt, have I ever told you how much I appreciate that you’re my boss?”

I could hear him puttering about his apartment. In the background I could swear I heard the jingling of Bruno’s collar as the small dog followed Matt around. He laughed.

“Jem, I keep telling you that you can shower me in compliments, but I can’t give you a raise every time you say nice things to me.” His voice suddenly shifted into his version of the Dog Mom voice. “ _Yes, it’s your momma on the phone. Yes, it is_.”

I laughed at the sound. “I’m serious Matt and thanks for taking care of Bru. If you’re free I’m out getting some things from my place and some groceries for Spence and I. I can swing by and get him.”

On the other side of the line, Matt gave a small grunt and I heard the excited jingling of Bruno’s collar as he took off chasing whatever Matt had thrown. Whatever it was Bruno must have caught it because Matt let out an excited yell and he began raining praises on the small dog.

“Bruno and I are free all day,” he replied at last, “Feel free to stop by whenever -,” he switched back into Dog Mom voice to praise Bruno some more. Finally, when I thought I had lost him for good he seemed to remember I was still there, “ - or don’t. I’m happy to keep him forever.”

* * *

Bruno’s pink, little tongue was out as he grinned at me from between the bars of Matt’s porch when I approached the apartment building arms full of groceries and a bag slung over my hip. I stopped dramatically in the middle of the sidewalk as we stared each other down before he began spinning in tight, excited circles. He barked once, then again, and raced back into the open patio door. Matt buzzed me up a second later.

“Knew it was you,” he said when he pulled open the door a few moments later, “He doesn’t act like that for anyone else but you.”

He took the two brown bags full of essential groceries from my arms and placed them on his counter. Grateful, I pulled the duffel bag I had collected from my apartment off my shoulder and pulled Bruno into my arms. He squirmed in excitement attempting to lick at my face.

“I can’t stay long,” I said, apologetically following Matt back towards his kitchen, “I don’t want the milk to go bad.”

He waved a dismissive hand, pulled two Cokes out of his fridge, and handed one to me. I dropped Bruno back to the floor where he began to circle our feet looking for any scraps.

“Don’t worry about it,” Matt replied after he had taken a long pull from his soda, “I totally understand. I can give you a ride back if you need it. Stephen is out of town for the week so he’s letting me borrow his car.”

I eyed him over my can of Coke. “So that’s still going on, huh? What happened to ‘being too busy?’”

Matt glared at me, though the glare wasn’t as effective as a blush crept up his neck. He cleared his throat and took another gulp of soda.

“Uh, yes, it’s still going on. As your employer I need to remind you that I can fire you if you make fun of me.”

I laughed and held up both my hands, “Hey, I would never even dream of making fun of you.”

He squared his shoulders and sipped imperiously at the Coke, “You’re goddamn right.”

We settled into a comfortable silence for a moment. Bruno was watching my every move, his big Yorkie ears radaring for any sound in the close vicinity. Leaving my Coke half-finished I pushed myself away from Matt’s kitchen island to start gathering Bruno’s toys and stuffing them into my duffel. After a moment, Matt followed behind to help though he was momentarily distracted by the buzz of his phone.

“This is perfect,” he said as he fished a small tennis ball from under his couch, “Amy’s in the shop alone and she just texted she just got caught in a rush. I can drop you off at Spencer’s on my way to help her out.”

“How is Amy?” I asked, carefully avoiding Matt’s eye. 

I hadn’t heard from Amy while I was gone, but hadn’t thought anything of it. Leaving suddenly had left a gaping hole in The Raven’s scheduling so I assumed she was helping pick up the slack. Now that I thought about it, however, her silence was a little unsettling. Oblivious, Matt gave a hum of consideration.

“She was pretty quiet after you left, but we both were. We were really worried about you.” He tossed a glance over his shoulder at me and then literally tossed another one of Bruno’s toys at me. “She wouldn’t stop talking about you and asking me questions about you.”

“Really?” I finished stuffing my duffel full of squeaky toys and straightened, “What was she asking?”

Matt shrugged and helped me gather all my things together. I hooked Bruno onto his leash and heaved the duffel bag over my shoulder again and we each hefted a grocery bag into the crook of our arm. He hooked his fingers into the flattened metal of Bruno’s kennel. Bruno in the lead, the three of us made our way down to the street, where a black Toyota chirped as Matt unlocked it. As he loaded everything into the trunk he answered me.

“Nothing too bad,” he said, slightly out of breath, “Just superficial stuff like your favorite color and flowers and things. I assumed she was going to order you a bouquet of flowers or something.”

He leaned back, thinking hard. “Now that I think about it she did ask me about how you got to DC so I told her about you completing your undergrad in English and your goal of going into publishing, but, again, this was all stuff she could easily have known.” His eyes narrowed as he caught the unsure look across my brow. “Why? Is something wrong?”

I was slow to answer. I watched Bruno circle through the inside of the car, eyeing us through the window.

“No,” I replied, uncertainly, “I don’t think so. Something has been off about her since the whole incident with the bank explosion, but I can’t pinpoint what’s going on. I thought maybe it was her ex, but even then I’m not so sure.”

Matt’s brow furrowed, “Ex?”

“Yeah, she left Florida because of a bad break up. The guy was obsessed with his last girlfriend - like make Amy into the ex-girlfriend obsessed - so she had to relocate.” Matt still looked confused. “She didn’t tell you any of this?”

He slammed the trunk shut and skirted around the car to duck into the driver’s seat. He shook his head as he put the key in the ignition and we began to drive away.

“No, she hasn’t said anything like that to me.” He fell silent, biting his lip. “But that might not be a bad thing. I am technically her boss plus I’m a _guy_ , and she’s always seemed closer to you anyways.”

Bruno climbed over the middle console to curl into a ball on my lap as we moved through traffic. I thought hard, mentally reviewing every interaction I had had with Amy, but, aside from the general uneasiness, nothing really stuck out to me that set off any intense red flags aside from the fact we now apparently wore the same perfume. I smoothed the fur on Bruno’s back and shrugged.

“I suppose I’m just being jumpy,” I conceded, “It was the same way after I got out of the hospital. She showed up at my doorstep to help me get ready for JJ’s wedding and I felt the same way. I guess after traumatic events I just get paranoid.”

“She said she was going over to your place that night. I’m glad to hear she made it ok,” Matt chuckled, “She told me she was a little worried she wouldn't be able to find the place because the directions she had were so confusing. I don’t know why you didn’t just tell her to put your address in her phone.”

He maneuvered through the streets as we fell into more general conversation - the store was doing good business which made Matt less stressed; I had yet to hear from GWU, but my advisor had reached out to let me know I should keep an eye on my email as the acceptance letters were going out soon - but something tickled in the back of my brain that I couldn’t quite scratch. Before I knew it we were turning on Spencer’s street and Bruno was full of energy again, excited to see the familiar brownstone.

Matt helped me carry everything back up to Spencer’s apartment. I could smell the coffee brewing before I was even halfway up the stairs and rolled my eyes.

“The man doesn’t know how to relax,” I muttered to myself and a few steps down I heard Matt chuckle.

Spencer was standing barefoot in the kitchen raising his mug to his lips when I pushed the door open. He hurried forward to free my arms as Bruno looped the leash around my legs and smiled sheepishly as I glared at him. 

“I promise I got some rest while you were gone,” he said in response to my glare, “Coffee just sounded good to me.”

He waved over my shoulder at Matt as I continued to level a glare at Spencer. He did look better, there was more color in his cheeks and he wasn’t moving like he was carrying the world on his shoulders. I was surprised to see the bandage on his neck seemed cleaner; he had obviously changed it while I was out. Conceding defeat I huffed.

“Fine, I forgive you, but you have to put the food away and prep me one of your coffees.”

He grinned at me and nodded, “Deal. Matt, would you like one?”

Matt shook his head, smiling. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve got to run over to the bookstore. I’ll tell Amy you both say hi.”

He ducked back out of the doorway, waving. Again I could feel the tickle at the back of my brain. _What was it?_ It was on the tip of my tongue, but I just couldn’t find the words. Spencer placed a mug in front of me and I warmed my hands on the porcelain. I settled at the bar to watch him organize the groceries.

“So,” he said as he put the egg carton on the top shelf of the fridge, “I have news.”

He paused and glanced shyly at me. “My mom called.”

“Your mom?”

"Yeah, she keeps track of all of my cases. Somehow word got out about my accident and she was worried.”

I took a quick sip of the coffee, but it was less because I actually wanted it and more for something to do. Diana Reid was an enigma to me. I had only seen her in Spencer’s pictures and heard of her through his stories. It was obvious she was an important figure in his life.

“Anyways,” he continued, avoiding eye contact, “She’s coming here.”

There was a beat of silence.

“She’s coming here? To visit you?”

Spencer nodded.

“Oh, well I can totally get out of your hair if you need me to. I don’t want to get in the way of your time together -,”

“Jem,” Spencer interrupted, curving his hands around my own and leveling his gaze at me, “She wants to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday everyone! I hope you all had a great week with no stress and plenty of relaxation. I am slowly working my way towards the end of Everything There is in the World is in Books - I think I have a chapter and a half left to complete - and then I'll start writing Book Two!
> 
> Have a wonderful weekend, all. I'll see you around the same time next week!


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